The Two Musicians
by Silver Chessboards
Summary: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger unknowingly share a great passion for music. After Ron cheats on Hermione with Lavender, she runs away sobbing and ends up in the deserted corridor on the sixth floor. A hauntingly beautiful classical piece coming from inside of an abandoned music room intrigues her. Seventh year. Post War.
1. The Pianist and The Violinist

**The Two Musicians**

Chapter 1: The Pianist and The Violinist

By Silver Chessboards

_Summary_

_Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger unknowingly share a great passion for music. After Ron cheats on Hermione with Lavender, she runs away sobbing and ends up in the deserted corridor on the sixth floor. A hauntingly beautiful classical piece coming from inside of an abandoned music room intrigues her. Seventh year. Post War. _

Disclaimer: This disclaimer goes for all chapters in this fanfiction, so here goes: Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.

Song in this Chapter: When Winter Comes by Chris De Burgh

* * *

Hermione Granger could still remember the day she received her first violin as a child. She had been four, a small soft thing with huge brown eyes and a love for fairy tales. It had been her birthday and her father had returned home from work with a large wrapped up present. The wrapping paper had been red with a neat bow tied at the top and a gold ribbon. She remembered how she had opened it and squealed, rushing to hug her father around the legs. She smiled at the thought of the memory as she dipped her quill into the black inkwell sitting atop the desk.

She was in the library, seated in her favourite corner located at the back where no one would disturb her. She doubted that anyone would for she was in the musical section where there were countless volumes about great muscians such as Beethoven and Mozart. She slowly drummed her fingers against the mahogany as she studied the bars and notes she had managed to pen in her free time. She was writing a piece. It was a Saturday and all the other students were at Hogsmeade so she doubted that she would be interrupted. She had never wrote a complete piece before, just a few unfinished melodies. Mostly just half a page or a full page, but this time she was determined to compose a full length piece.

She scribbled a few notes onto the bars before carefully folding the piece of parchment and slipping it into her pocket. She would write more later when she wasn't busy reading a book. She smiled softly as she took a large green volume off the stack of books sat on the desk. She flipped it open, her fingers running across the smooth parchment. The familiar musty scent surrounded her as she read. Her eyes skimmed across the page, taking in every word. She loved moments such as this. When she was alone with no one to distract her she could slowly thumb through the pages with leisure, allowing the time to slip through her fingers like sand.

Hermione glanced at her wristwatch, it was almost time for dinner. The students had probably already returned from Hogsmeade. She smiled at the thought of seeing Harry and Ron. She and Ron had been dating ever since the war ended and she was incredibly happy having him as a boyfriend. She had started fancying him when she was in third year and somehow her feelings had never died down. Heaving the stack of books into her arms, she made her way down the aisle slipping the thick books back into the shelves.

She then headed out of the library, smiling. The sunlight that shone through the tall windows warmed her pale skin. She had been in the library since morning and her fingers had felt numb after hours in the cold atmosphere. Her mary-janes made soft clicks on the floor as she walked through the deserted corridor. Everyone was probably at dinner for she was the only soul walking along the corridor. She stopped in her tracks, frowning as she heard a peculiar sound.

It sounded like...a moan?

Her frown deepened as she turned the corridor. Then she saw it. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes widened and the book she had been clutching fell to the floor, making a loud slap as it came into contact with the ground. Her mouth was slightly ajar and she had unconsciously placed a hand over her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Against the wall, snogging, with their hands all over each other were Ronald Weasley and Lavender Brown. She didn't realise that she had been crying until she felt a drop of salty liquid touch her hand. Ron's blue eyes widened as he saw her and he hastily shoved Lavender away from him.

"Hermione, it's not what you thi–"

But she didn't stay to hear anymore of what he was going to say, she turned and ran.

Her fast footfalls echoed in the empty corridor, she didn't know where she was running to anymore. She couldn't see properly as tears clouded her vision and she could vaguely make out staircases as she hurried up the steps. She just wanted to put as much distance as possible between her and the redhead. Merlin, she had loved him so much and he cheated on her with Lavender Brown of all people! She felt a burst of anger in her chest as she thought of the other girl.

She finally stopped, leaning on a wall for support as she slowly slid down, her knees buckling under her. She didn't feel like running anymore, all she wanted to do was cry her heart out. She could hear her sobs in the empty corridor, vivid among the silence. Except that it wasn't silent at all.

She could hear the melody of a piano behind two white doors. She closed her eyes listening to the music. The classical music somehow calmed her in a way as she furiously wiped her eyes with her sleeves. She had to stop crying, she just had to. But somehow, the tears wouldn't stop. She looked up to see the door to the music room swing open

* * *

Draco Malfoy flexed his fingers, hearing them make a satisfying crack. He had been playing the piano for already an hour and his fingers were exhausted. He remembered the tiresome days when he had to sit in front of the grand piano in one of the many living rooms in the West Wing of the manor and practice. He had been only five when introduced to the colossal instrument, he remembered how he had been excited at the prospect of something new to learn.

His piano teacher had been strict, yes, but that was one of the reasons he was extremely skilled. As he grew older, he learned to love the instrument even more. It was like a safe haven for him, where he could retreat to to play to his heart's content especially after he got a bad scolding from his father.

He reached for his satchel, removing a slip of parchment from it. He had already finished the first three bars of the piece and was struggling with penning the next. He had been working on the piece in his free time, but was currently stuck with the part he was writing. He sighed, running a hand through his tousled locks as he stared at the parchment. It had been hard enough to find time to play with the copious amounts of homework the teachers were giving them. He retrieved a quill and wrote a few notes before placing it back into his satchel. He turned to the grand piano, closing it's lid gently.

He was in an abandoned music room on the sixth floor. He had discovered it just recently and had often visited to play the grand piano in the middle of it. There were countless of other instruments that he had no intention to disturb at all. When he had first stumbled across the abandoned room, it had been covered in cobwebs and dust, with the curtains torn and the lights broken.

It appeared to have been unused for perhaps a decade or so. But he had neatened it up with a few flicks of his wand and muttered charms so that it was adequate for his needs. He slung his satchel over his shoulder and walked across the room, his shoes clicking on the smooth marble. Taking one last look at the music room, he turned and opened the door. It swung open slightly and he slipped out.

He stretched his hands aboved his head, relaxing his muscles. The music room was located in a deserted corridor which hadn't been disturbed for perhaps a decade until he came along. He then became aware that someone else was there, sobbing. He frowned as he saw a head buried between two arms. It was a girl by the looks of her, probably his age. She had bushy brown hair and had her knees up to her chest. She was dressed in a red plaid shirt with small white buttons and dark blue skinny jeans. She looked up at him, her brown eyes round and rather puffy around the edges. He then realised it was Hermione Granger.

His frown softened as soon as he saw that she had probably been crying for a long time. Tears streamed down her face and her nose was slightly red.

"Malfoy," she said, her voice croaky.

"Granger," he nodded. Without saying a word, he retrieved a silk handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. After all, even if she was a muggle born, he had been brought up to be the perfect gentleman. She took it from him and dabbed her eyes with it, sniffing. He watched as she then tried to stand, her knees weak. She cried out in pain, collapsing back to the floor.

It was then that he noticed that she had injured her foot, badly. His brow furrowed. She whimpered in pain, trying once again to stand but failing. Then she blacked out.

Draco immediately scooped her up in his arms, her limp body warm against his skin. He then headed to the Hospital wing with the unconscious Gryffindor.

* * *

After several questions from Madam Pomfrey, he was allowed to go. Sighing, he returned to the sixth floor to retrieve his satchel which he had carelessly left on the floor. He picked up the bag, slinging it over his shoulder. As he turned to leave, he noticed a piece of parchment on the floor. Curiosity getting the better of him, he picked it up, unfolding it. It appeared to be an incomplete music composition. The ink was smudged slight and the parchment had been crinkled at the edges. His eyes scanned the parchment for a name, there appeared to be none. Flipping it over in his hands, he then saw a name written neatly in black ink.

_Hermione Granger_

* * *

_Definitions_

_Bars - The line grids that can be seen on piano music sheets_

_Notes - The musical signs that are drawn on the bars. These help a musician to play an instrument. There are seven names for notes from A to G as well as sharps and flats which are the black keys._

_Piece/composition - A work of written music_

_That sums it up. This is just a little bit of information for those who do not play an instrument, just in case there is confusion._

* * *

Author's Note

Thank you for reading. I hoped you enjoyed that. This is probably going to be long fic, perhaps 20 or so chapters. I update once every two or so weeks so please do be patient with me. Also, in this fic Hermione is Head Girl and Ernie Macmillan is Head Boy. They have private separate dormitories on different floors. That's about it. Please do review and tell me what you think. Thank you :)

Love,

- Silver Chessboards


	2. Confusion

**The Two Musicians**

Chapter 2: Confusion

By Silver Chessboards

* * *

The bed she was lying in was soft and cool against her skin. She could smell flowers nearby, probably daffodils, one of her favourite flowers. She could sense that she was in an unfamiliar bed but she was reluctant to open her eyes. A soft breeze fanned her face as she turned in her bed but winced as a jolt of pain shot up her leg. Her eyes flew open and she then saw the bandage around her foot. She was in the hospital wing and it seemed to be morning by the way the sunlight entered the room. She sat up in bed, looking around. The hospital wing was always the same, white, white and more white. She then laid back in her bed, careful not to move her injured foot. She frowned.

She couldn't recall how she had gotten to the hospital wing or when she had injured her foot. Her memory seemed incredibly vague to her as she had just awoken.

Then she remembered everything. Ron cheating on her with Lavender and her running down an empty corridor and Malfoy passing her his handkerchief. She grimaced as she thought of Ron and Lavender. Then she thought of Malfoy, why had he given her a handkerchief? He hated her. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and then looked to her foot, she had probably injured it when she had been running. She sighed, looking to the nightstand beside her.

There was a glass vase of daffodils and a neat stack consisting of three books. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the books and she reached out to take one from the top, opening it. She smiled as she recognised the volume, it was Hogwarts, a History. She flipped it open and started reading.

It wasn't long before she had her nose buried among the pages. Just then, Madam Pomfrey came along. She held a bottle which she opened and poured some of it's contents into a glass.

"Good morning, miss Granger. Nasty injury you've got there but nothing I can't fix," she said as she handed her the glass.

"Thank you," Hermione said as she gulped down the concoction, making a face at the unpleasant taste.

"Do you know how I got here?" Hermione asked, passing the glass back to Madam Pomfrey who took it.

"Oh, Mister Malfoy carried you here."

"He carried me?" she asked in disbelief. "In his arms?"

"Of course in his arms, don't be silly dear," she said before hurrying off.

Hermione frowned as she lay back in her bed, mulling over her thoughts. Why had Ron cheated on her? How long had he been with Lavender behind her back? Would she miss out on a lot of school work? When could she be discharged from the Hospital Wing?

But there was only one question she really wanted to know the answer to.

_Why had Malfoy helped her?_

* * *

In another part of the castle, Draco was asking himself the same question as he turned in his bed.

_Why had he helped her?_

He didn't even like her. And plus, she was a muggle born. But he couldn't help but feel sorry for her when he saw her sobbing. That evening after returning to the Slytherin Common rooms he had heard rumours that Weasley had cheated on her, with Lavender Brown. He had raised an eyebrow at this and shook his head. He despised people who were disloyal in relationships. Even he had never cheated on Pansy, not once. It was her who had decided that she wanted to break up with him for she had found another she fancied. A Ravenclaw, Anthony Goldstein if he was correct. He remembered shrugging it off for he and Pansy were better off just being friends.

He turned in bed again, the duvet soft against his skin. He thought of the piece of parchment he had found on the marble floor the previous day. He would have to return it to Granger soon, he just didn't know how. Sitting up in bed, he stretched his arms above him, his muscles flexing. He then got out of bed, deciding that it would be best to get dressed for breakfast.

* * *

Harry had visited her in the morning with a grim and solemn face. He had been furious that Ron had cheated on her and had reassured her that he was on her side. He had brought her a few books to read and told her he would pop in later with homework and whatnot. Ginny had visited not long after Harry left. She, as well, had been in hysterics. She had given Ron a good earful earlier that morning. Hermione had smiled and said it was alright whilst Ginny had continued her rant.

It seemed that her friends were angry on her behalf. But that didn't mean that she wasn't angry either. She was mad, obviously, and didn't intend to forgive Ron any time soon. The brunette then thought of her uncompleted piece. Sure she was having trouble writing it but she'd complete it eventually. Her hands were already itching to get her violin and play to her hearts content. Madam Pomfrey had said that she would be released from the Hospital wing in a bit, after another dose of potion.

Just then, the older lady came in, sliding the curtains away. She had a different bottle in her hand half filled with a brown concoction. Removing the cork, she poured some of it into a glass and handed it to Hermione.

"Drink up, dear. Your foot is all well now, just be careful not to injure it again." She said in a motherly tone. Hermione downed the potion, making a face at the taste. Finishing it, she passed it back to the nurse.

"Now, here are your clothes. Change quickly and off you go," Madam Pomfrey shoved a bundle of clothes into her hands and smiled at her before hurrying away.

It was the clothes she had been wearing the previous day, her red plaid shirt and jeans except that they had been washed and folded up neatly. After changing, she walked out of the Hospital wing.

It was mid afternoon and classes were going on but she didn't feel like attending which was unlike her. All she felt like doing was playing her violin. She then remembered her incompleted composition. She could recall placing it into her pocket the day before. She slipped her hands into her pockets but found nothing there.

Her eyes widened. Where could it possibly be? Panic took over her senses, she had spent ages working on it. It simply wouldn't do to lose it. She then thought of the last place she had visited before blacking out.

The deserted corridor on the sixth floor.

She broke into a run.

* * *

When she arrived, she was out of breath. The corridor looked the same as it did the day before and there wasn't any piece of parchment there at all. She frowned, turning to leave. Just as she did, she heard the sound of a door slamming behind her. She didn't turn back to see who it was for she already knew.

"Granger," a voice drawled, she turned to see him making his way towards her.

"Malfoy." She replied, her eyes following his every move. He came to a stop right in front of her, putting reasonable space between them.

"Care to tell me why you are here, especially out of class?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I could ask you the same question, I was just looking for something I misplaced, not that it is any of your concern."

"You mean this?" he said, retrieving a piece of parchment from his pocket.

It was her composition.

"H-how?" she said as he passed it to her. She couldn't help but feel a tingle as their fingers brushed against each other.

"I found it on the ground, you probably dropped it," he said, turning to leave. He hadn't taken more than a few steps before she said something.

"Wait."

He stopped in his tracks.

"Why did you help me yesterday?"

"I couldn't just leave you there to bleed, could I?"

* * *

Thanks for reading. Leave a review and all that jazz :)

- Silver Chessboards


	3. The Lake

**The Two Musicians**

Chapter 3: The Lake

By Silver Chessboards

* * *

Hermione sat up in bed, with her eyes closed and her back against the wall. She had awoken not long ago and sleep refused to claim her again. It was still early and the merry tune of the birds outside irked her. She didn't feel like sleeping anymore and she hadn't anything to do to keep her preoccupied.

She got out of bed and walked over to her unused dresser. As head girl, she had her own dorms complete with her own bedroom, a guest room, kitchenette, common room and a single bathroom. It was rather spacious but she did not mind for it was much better than when she had to share dorms with Lavender and Pavarti. She had absolutely no idea why Dumbledore would have placed a dresser in her bedroom when he probably knew that she would never use it.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes sweeping over the bags under her eyes and her much more defined cheekbones. Ever since Ron had cheated on her she had stayed up late studying and ate less. She had lost her appetite completely, she couldn't even remember the last time she had a decent meal. She sighed and thought of Malfoy and how he had left her pondering the same question for a whole week.

#Why had he helped her?

He had went around being his usual aloof self. She would only see him ocassionally, when they crossed paths in the hallways, at mealtimes, during lessons and at the library. He was often seen with Blaise Zabini, an Italian Slytherin in the same grade as they. She hadn't felt like approaching him with the question for she felt that it would only be awkward. Besides, it wasn't really that necessary for her to know although she was curious.

Ron had tried several times to start a conversation with her but she had refused to even spare a glance in his direction. She had decided that he wasn't worth her time. This usually resulted in Ron storming off in anger, muttering profanities.

Harry and Ginny had been amazingly understanding about her behaviour towards him. They had comforted her and said she could take all the time she needed to finally forgive him. They still did talk with the redhead but not as friendly as before.

She sighed.

Life was such a pain.

The morning air was sharp and glacial against her skin. She wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. September was cold and unforgiving, October would probably be worse. Leaves crunched under her feet as she made her way to the lake. The surface of the lake was still and undisturbed by all but the wind which caused an occasional ripple. The sky was grey and gloomy.

It was still extremely early in the morning so there would be no one to disturb her for everyone was fast asleep, tucked in their beds. She came to a halt and sat down on the grass, her back leaning on the bark of a tree for support. From where she sat, she had a good view of the lake and the castle. She stretched her feet out in front of her and retrieved her writing materials from her satchel.

She had awoken earlier that morning and had decided to make use of the time she had, for sleep would not take her. She unfolded the piece of parchment, studying it. After a moment, she added a few notes to the bars. She smiled down at it, it was only the beginning.

"Good morning."

It was a deep and masculine voice that broke the silence. She looked up to see Draco Malfoy towering over her, leaning on the trunk of the tree with his hand. He, however, had his eyes trained on the spectacular view of the castle that could be seen from where they were.

"Good morning, Malfoy," she replied absentmindedly, averting her attention back to her composition.

"Is that...a composition of yours?" he asked, looking down at her.

"Well, yes. Not that it's any of your concern."

Ignoring her last comment, he said, "May I join you?"

She thought of it for a while. Malfoy sitting on the grass? With her? She shrugged, replying.

"It's a free country," she said.

"I'll take that as a yes," he muttered as he sat down beside her, stretching his feet in front of him. For a while, nothing could be heard save the chirping of the birds and the sound of the wind in their ears.

"An F sharp would go well with that," he said, glancing at her work. She suddenly became aware of how close they were sitting. How their legs brushed against each other and the scent of his cologne. She felt her cheeks flush but she shook her head, telling herself that he may have just chosen to sit without noticing the space between them.

"That sounds right," she replied, adding an F sharp to the bars. There was a moment of silence before he asked a question.

"You play an instrument?"

She turned to look at him before replying.

"The violin. You play the piano, if I am correct?"

"Correct," he glanced at her, an expressionless look on his face. Their eyes met for a moment and she looked away.

She folded the piece of parchment on her lap, deciding that she had wrote enough. She gently closed her eyes, enjoying the peace. The silence that passed was comforting to her. The lovely chirps of the birds and the soft breeze of the wind against her skin were incredibly soothing.

She heard him get up, his shoes making crunching noises in the grass and leaves. But she didn't open her eyes. The sounds of him walking away soon became distant until she could hear his footsteps no longer. She gently opened her eyes, seeing him walking towards the castle in the distance.

She then remembered the handkerchief he had passed to her, she slipped it out of her pocket and looked at it. She had forgotten to return it. It was a silk white handkerchief with his name printed neatly at the bottom. She sighed, getting up and heading back to the castle.

The wind didn't seem that cold anymore.

* * *

Her quill made scratching noises as she took down notes with haste. It was mid afternoon and potions was her last lesson of the day. Slughorn was explaining the properties of several potion ingredients, smiling widely at the students. Many of the students had chosen to bury their heads in their arms and drift off to sleep, some were munching on sugar quills and others were chatting nonchalantly. She frowned at the inattentive students before averting her undivided attention to Slughorn. The classroom door swung open and someone entered the classroom.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy. Please take a seat and I expect you not to be late the next time," Professor Slughorn said before continuing the lesson.

Hermione heard a colourful string of words and the scrape of a chair against the floor as Malfoy seated himself in the seat directly behind her. She dipped her quill in the black inkwell and continued writing but found herself stopping in her movements. She could feel his gaze on her. She felt a drop of sweat trickle down her brow.

She didn't know the reason why but she felt nervous.

A drop of ink fell from the tip of her quill and stained the parchment, soaking into the material and spreading out slightly. She stared at the drop of ink on her parchment before shaking her head vigorously, her locks rustling with the jerks of her head. She had to pay attention. Her NEWTs were approaching, for Merlin's sake! She returned her attention to Slughorn, struggling hard to not be distracted. Throughout the whole lesson, she could feel his eyes on her. The bell rung, signalling the next lesson. She rushed out of class, her steps quick.

She hadn't taken as many notes as she usually did.

* * *

He didn't even know why he did it. He just did. He couldn't help but stare at her throughout potions as Slughorn droned on about potion ingredients. He noticed how her brown locks shone brightly when the light caught it and how her clothes seemed so baggy on her frame. She seemed rather...intriguing. He didn't know how or why.

He had never really noticed the bookworm before, it seemed strange that he did now after seven years of know her. He shook his head to clear his thoughts as he walked away from the potions classroom. His shoes made soft clicks on the ground as he walked. Lessons were over for the day and he didn't have anything to do. He shrugged, deciding he would do his homework

* * *

_After Dinner_

Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room, doing homework. She dipped her quill in the black ink well and continued to write, her concentration fully on the Potions essay she was working on. Harry and Ginny were in the couch opposite the one she was sitting on and they were conversing in soft tones, careful to not disturb her.

She heard the portrait door swing open and someone entered but she paid the person no heed until she looked up to see said person standing in front of her, waiting for her to notice him.

Ronald Weasley.

"Look, Hermione–"

"No. Don't you 'look Hermione' me, Ronald," she said in a harsh tone, glaring at the redhead who winced at the sound of his full name.

"Let me–"

"I will not listen to anything you have to say, Ronald. It was you who cheated on me. You have no idea how it hurt when I saw you with her. I hate you, so much!" She shouted the last sentence and stormed out of the common room leaving behind a speechless redhead.

She felt tears well in her eyes, how could he be so cruel? How could he just cheat on her? She had been in love with him for years he had crushed her heart in just a few seconds. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she ran. She couldn't see clearly for the tears clouded her vision. Her loud footfalls echoed in the empty corridor and locks of hair tangled themselves in the wind.

She finally stopped running, collapsing to the ground and pulling her knees to her chest. She buried her head in her hands, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She didn't want to see anyone at that moment. Especially not Ron.

She felt a pair of arms snake around her shoulders and strangely, she felt warm. Someone was stroking her hair.

"Don't cry, Granger."

* * *

He didn't know what made him do it. He just felt the urge to comfort her after seeing her there. They were on the sixth floor, the deserted corridor, in front of the music room. He had just finished playing the piano and had slipped out of the room to see Granger sobbing in the same spot where he had found her just a week ago. He immediately knew that she was crying over the red headed git that cheated on her. He had felt a flare of anger in his chest and had walked up to her, slipping his arms around her.

It was not like him to comfort someone.

But he couldn't help but feel sorry for her. After countless words of comfort and hushing, she finally quietened down. He looked down at her, she had fallen asleep. He shook his head, scooping her into his arms and standing up. He knew that she was head girl and had her own private dormitories but he had no idea where her dorms were located. He sighed, heading towards the music room and opening the door. He carefully laid the unconscious girl on top of the table in the corner.

Retrieving his wand from his pocket, he transfigured a nearby armchair into a bed. He then scooped her up in his arms and gently laid her down onto the bed, drawing the duvet up to her chest. Sighing, he brushed away a tendril of hair from her face. He then sat down on a armchair facing the side of the bed. It would have to do, for he couldn't just leave her there in the music room.

Soon, he too drifted off to sleep.


	4. Sunlight

**The Two Musicians**

Chapter 4: Sunlight

By Silver Chessboards

* * *

She was awake, but did not feel like opening her eyes. Her duvet smelled different and the bed was cosier than the one in her dorms. She slowly cracked open one eyelid and closed it. The colour of the duvet was different too, it was white whilst the one in her dorms were red. She snuggled deeper into the duvet, she didn't want to get up yet. She felt too comfortable in the bed. She turned on her side and opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was Draco Malfoy.

Asleep. In an armchair.

Many would've never thought they would awaken to such an unexpected sight. But then again, fate had it's own twisted way. She allowed her eyes to run over his form, curiosity bubbling inside of her.

His hair was mussed and his head was bent over slightly. His arms were rested atop the armrests and one of his legs were crossed over the other. He looked oddly peaceful in a way she had never seen him before. She frowned once she realised how uncomfortable the armchair looked. How did he manage to sleep in such a condition?

She felt a sharp twinge of guilt for having the bed to herself. She sat up, trying to remember how she had possibly ended up in a different bed. She lay back against the headboard and then she recalled the events of the previous day. She didn't remember how she had ended up in a different bed but that was the least of her worries.

Her brown eyes roamed over the unfamiliar surroundings. She was in a vast music room, a piano merely metres away from the bed. The music room had tall ceiling windows and were adorned with fine red velvet curtains which had been drawn back to allow light in. The floor was polished marble and there were several other instruments lining one wall. Looking back to the sleeping blond, she smiled at the sight of him. Lately, he seemed so...pleasant towards her.

She lay back in bed, closing her eyes. Perhaps she would sleep a bit more...

* * *

Draco Malfoy groggily cracked open an eyelid and then widened his eyes. He wasn't sure if he was still dreaming but Hermione Granger was asleep in a bed in front of him. His nose twitched and he closed his eyes, yes he had to be dreaming. After all, why would Hermione Granger be in his music room of all places?

He frowned, the surface he was lying down on was much harder and a lot more uncomfortable than his bed. He opened his eyes and sat straight up in what he assumed was an armchair. He wasn't in the Slytherin dormitories, but in the music room on the sixth floor.

He stood abruptly, looking at the girl asleep in the bed. Merlin, he was so tired. And her bed did look rather comfortable and soft...

He shook his head, he refused to invade her privacy. They hardly even knew each other! The events of the previous day flashed in his mind and he frowned. No doubt there would be questions. Questions that he did not want to answer. So what if he helped her? He had changed, although many people did not see it. He sighed, shaking his head to clear his erratic thoughts. It was still early, he didn't want to deal with such things at the moment.

His grey eyes roamed over her form. Merlin, he had never noticed how–dare he say it–pretty Granger looked in his seven years at school. Gone were the furrow between her brows when she studied and the bright smile she would have with her fellow Gryffindors around. She seemed so peaceful. Her large teeth had disappeared, how it did was a mystery to him. Heck, his eleven year old self probably wouldn't have recognised Granger at the age of eighteen.

He ran a hand through his blond locks and walked over to the grand piano.

* * *

When she awoke again, the first thing she realised was that someone was playing the piano. It was a slow piece of music, beautiful and serene at the same time. She smiled, turning over in the spacious bed. Her eyes landed on him.

He was seated in front of the grand piano, his long fingers gliding over the keys like water. Sunlight shone through the red velvet curtains and illuminated his pale locks. He seemed so peaceful and calm. She sat up in bed, careful not to make any noise so not alert him to the fact that she was awake. She never did remember how she got into the music room, but that didn't really matter. The song then ended, getting softer until the dulcet tones of the piano ceased to exist, silence replacing it. He stood, gently closing the lid of the piano and then turned to face her. He looked like he just awoke, with his hair mussed and his shirt crinkled. But then again, he had spent the night asleep in an armchair.

"How did I get here?" she asked him softly, looking at him.

"You fell asleep and I carried you here," he answered simply. She couldn't help but admire the way his grey eyes shone in the light, complimenting his pale blond locks that fell across his eyes.

"Oh..." She said, getting out of bed and walking over to the line of instruments lining the walls. Her eyes landed on several violins, all polished to a shiny finish. Each was as beautiful as the other, a warm brown. She turned to face Malfoy who was looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Her eyes were questioning if she could have a look at the violins.

"Go ahead," was all he said as he shrugged.

A smiled spread on her face and her eyes lit up as she carefully took the violin into her hands. Positioning the bow in her right hand, she slid the hairs of the bow across the strings. The sound that emitted was sweet and clear. Feeling delighted, she started playing a song. It was one of the songs she had heard her father play before on his violin. It was called Spring and she loved it.

The lovely sounds emitting from the violin were all around her, echoing off the white walls. It felt like a long time since she had last laid hands on a violin. She closed her eyes, allowing the music in her to flow out through her arm into the tips of her fingers. The song eventually ended, much to her dismay.

She returned the violin to it's spot on the wall and turned to face the man who had been watching her. His eyes were full of curiosity, looking at her as if he wasn't sure what exactly to say.

"Well, that was certainly impressive," he said softly as he walked over to her. Every step he took meant a step closer to her and Hermione felt her pulse quicken slightly as he came to stand in front of her.

But only slightly.

She waved the feeling off, telling herself that it was only because she was surprised, he walked rather fast.

"Lessons start in in forty minutes, Granger," he said before walking away from her and slipping out through the door. She snapped to her senses and followed his footsteps, catching up with his quick strides. She placed a hand on his shoulder, but only momentarily for he turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you mind if I, um..." she trailed off, unsure of how to speak her mind.

"Spit it out, Granger," he said with a smirk. She blushed.

"Do you mind if I visit the music room again? I like the–

"The violins," he finished her sentence for her. Pausing to think momentarily, he looked back at her, their eyes connected for a moment before he said, "It's a free country, Granger."

He started to turn when she said something that made him look at her.

"Thank you, Malfoy, for everything."

And then she smiled.

He felt a strange feeling grow inside of him when she smiled at him and walked off.

He didn't know why he was doing it. Why was he being so pleasant towards her? He had felt sorry for her when Weasley cheated on her, that much he was sure of. And he had helped her. But he hadn't any idea where it would lead from there. She certainly wasn't crying anymore nor did she need to be comforted. So why had he told her that she was free to visit his music room whenever she felt like it? In the past, they never did acknowledge each other, choosing to ignore the other's presence. But that was in the past. He wasn't sure what to think anymore.

Were they friends?

Or nothing?

It felt strange in a way, for only last year he had disliked her immensely and she him. But now, it felt surreal that they were actually being pleasant towards each other.

He knew he didn't hate her anymore.

Nor did he like her.

He didn't want to hate anyone, not anymore. It took too much energy and time to hate someone. Hate ate you up from the inside. And over time, your heart would shrivel up and turn black. And he didn't want that.

He was certain that he wasn't prejudiced anymore. He had changed after the war, he had matured. As a child he had been ignorant, choosing to believe the rubbish that his father had told him. Bit the war had taught him many things. The blood spilled over stone during the battle had been proof enough for him that blood was all the same. His blood was just as red as anyone else's. He had learned it the hard way, everyone was equal regardless of blood status.

But he wasn't sure what to think about Granger.

This...budding friendship between them felt abnormal to him. But not in a bad way. It was just strange.

He sighed, running a hand through his blond locks. He started walking, his footsteps swift across the marble. He needed time to think.

* * *

A week passed. He didn't see her around much. They would pass in the halls, spare a glance and walk off like nothing had happened. He didn't mind, of course. He and Granger weren't best of friends after all. He had heard that things between her and Weasley were still rough and she refused to speak to him at all. She was obviously angry of course. Heck, he would have been angry too if the person he had been dating cheated.

Weasley was a bastard.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He hadn't the time to think of Potter and his friends. He had things to do. Lessons were over for the day, he had completed his homework earlier in the Slytherin common room. He was on the sixth floor, once again. He was headed to the music room, his steps quick on the stone. When he arrived, he pushed open the wooden door. It swung open silently and he slipped inside, not making a sound. It was rather bright inside and he could hear noises, the scratching of a quill against parchment.

Granger was seated at the desk in the corner, pouring over homework with a stack of large books beside her. Her brown locks shone a brighter shade in the light that streamed through the ceiling windows, still as bushy as ever. She had tied her hair up in a high ponytail at the back of her head, exposing her long neck. The roll of parchment she was writing on had already reached the floor. The sweat on her brow glistened in the sunlight. He smirked, she still loved studying.

He slowly stepped in, careful not to distract her from her work. Apparently she still hadn't noticed him. He took a few steps towards the piano and then she glanced up from her work. Surprise morphed into her features, her brown eyes wide.

"Good evening, Granger," greeted her.

She bit her lip.

"The library was too noisy to study in," she explained shortly, averting her attention back to her work as he nodded in comprehension.

He gently lifted the lid of the piano, seating himself in front of it. Slowly but surely, he began to play a soft melody. He had always liked calm piano pieces that were beautiful and serene. It seemed natural to him as the sounds that the piano emitted were more suited for classical pieces rather than jazz. He was aware of the bright light shining across his figure and casting a shadow on the floor but he paid it no heed as he played the piano. He slowly shut his eyes, knowing the keys by heart.

His fingers skimmed over the fine ivory keys, each note clear and sweet. The sounds of the multiple keys overlapped beautifully. He kept his foot on the pedal at the bottom of the piano, occasionally lifting it. He could still hear Granger's quill scratching on her parchment and smirked, goodness she never did stop studying did she?

The song softened and then came to an end. His cracked his knuckles and closed the piano, turning to face Granger who was immersed in her work. She looked up at him and said, "That was beautiful."

He felt himself redden slightly at her words. His parents had never complimented his piano skills and he was used to no comments on his playing at all. But having someone who had only listened to him play a few times and complimenting it was flattering.

"Thank you," he said simply as he walked towards her, pulling out the chair beside hers and seating himself in it. He had finished his homework so there was nothing much to do except try to write his piece. He retrieved it from his satchel and smoothed it out on the table, he was almost done with the first page and Merlin, he felt rather proud of himself.

"Could I have a look?" he heard her timidly ask. He turned to look at her, their eyes met. He had never noticed that her eyes were such a warm shade of brown, he had always thought her eyes had been darker, a dull shade of brown bordering on black. He nodded, passing it to her. Their fingers brushed slightly and he felt a jolt of electricity but it was gone as soon as it happened so he shrugged it off, telling himself it was nothing.

She was looking at his piece with concentration, her eyes skimming across the parchment. He waited, wondering if she thought it was alright. She looked back to him as she passed it to him.

"It's good," it's all she said.

He couldn't help but feel a small burst of happiness. It wasn't because it was her who said the compliment. It was the compliment itself, just those two words.

He kept a calm expression but his eyes said it all.

The feather of his quill made quick jerking movements as he wrote the notes, careful to draw each one perfectly to the complete black of the notes. He had been writing his piece for quite a while and he was aware of the fact that Granger was watching.

"A D would be better than a F," she said in a soft voice, looking at him. The sky had darkened considerably to a light violet. She hadn't any idea of the time, but that didn't matter for she had no one waiting on her and she was free. He nodded, his quill scratching against the parchment. Occasionally their eyes met, they were a light shade of stony grey with a hint of silver in their depts. She used to think his eyes were blue.

"Really now, Granger? Blue?"

She hadn't realised she was thinking aloud. She flushed.

"Well, yes. How much did I say?"

"Just that you used to think my eyes were blue," he said, smirking in amusement.


	5. Scars

**The Two Musicians**

Chapter 5: Scars

By Silver Chessboards

* * *

Draco could smell apples and he faintly recalled the memory of making apple pie with his mother when he was seven. It had been one of the very few memories of his childhood that he treasured. Those were the days when his father had been a pleasant man. Even now, the memory still brought a small smile to his lips. Everything had started to go downhill when Draco turned eleven. His father had started to go to pubs and would come home drunk muttering about a 'Dark Lord'.

After the war, his father had been given a life sentence to Azkaban and that was the last Draco ever saw of him. His mother and he had been given a full pardon and at the moment she was in Switzerland with a cousin.

He groaned, it was early in the morning and he was thinking of his terrible past. He banished the thoughts from his mind and concentrated on the lovely scent of apple.

The smell of it clouded his mind and sent waves of euphoria over him.

It had been a long time since he had eaten apples. And he rather favoured green apples.

He groggily cracked open an eyelid.

It was then that he realised that his head and arms were rested atop a desk and he was seated in a stiff wooden chair. The armchair he had slept in the other night seemed much more appealing and comfortable, compared to this chair. He straightened his back, sitting up. His hair was flattened on one side and one of his cheeks felt numb from sleeping on it. Next to him was Granger. He suppressed the urge to groan, in case she woke.

She was sleeping in a position similar to how he had fallen asleep. He was so close that he could even count the freckles spattered across her nose. It was odd not seeing the furrow between her brows or the dimple at the side of her mouth when she was around her Gryffindor friends.

He had never seen her so at peace before and was reluctant to awake her. There were bags under her eyes and she had gotten noticeably skinnier from not eating well. He frowned, if she kept it up her robes would soon become mere rags on her thin frame.

Her eyes fluttered open.

And then she smiled at him.

His breath hitched in his throat.

It was a lazy kind of smile, like one had awakened to a beautiful sunrise and a basket of kittens. Her brown eyes were wide and full of warmth. She looked so innocent, like there was nothing wrong in the world and he fought the urge to smile back.

Merlin, he had never noticed that she was – dare he say it – beautiful.

Her brown tresses were smooth and smelled of apples, the scent he had awoken to. He assumed it was her shampoo. And he wondered how it would feel like to run his hands through—

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. What would Granger say if she knew that he was thinking of her in such a way? He waved it off and assumed it was just the haziness from sleep affecting him.

"Good morning, Draco," Hermione said warmly.

"Um, good morning."

She sat up abruptly and her backbone made a cracking sound as she straightened it. She stretched her hands above her, tilting her head back. More cracks sounded.

"You have lots of stiff bones, Granger. It must be age," he smirked at her as she turned to him

Did he just tease her?

"Oh, shut up," she laughed, her eyes full of mirth. He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, we'd best be going," he stood.

His bones cracked.

"Now who's old?"

"Oh, be quiet," he chuckled, grabbing his satchel.

* * *

The first thing he reached for at the breakfast table was the steaming plate of apple pie. He placed a slice on his plate, inhaling the delicious scent. It had been ages since he had last eaten apple pie. He sunk his fork into an edge and tasted the pastry. It was good but the one the house elves made back at the manor was better. He shrugged, it would have to do. Eating slowly, his eyes roamed over the Great Hall. It was still extremely early so there weren't many students up. The Ravenclaw table had most students, then the Hufflepuff, Slytherin and Gryffindor.

It seemed strange that the Gryffindor table had the least amount of students for he had always thought that they risen early. But then again, neither did he. It was the first time since term started that he had been so early for breakfast. Usually he would take a stroll near the lake first but he had slept in the most uncomfortable position the night before. He thought of Granger and her stiff bones and chuckled at the thought. There was no one sitting near enough to him to hear his laughter but someone saw it. She was sat at the Gryffindor table looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He shook his head, telling her that it was nothing.

She shrugged and returned to her breakfast. He had noticed how she never drank coffee, just a single glass of orange juice occasionally with a teaspoon of honey. It was almost as if she couldn't go a day without it, for he always saw a glass of the drink sat beside her on the table. He didn't stalk her or anything of that sort, he was just observant.

He quickly finished his apple pie, downed his glass of pumpkin juice and headed out of the Great Hall. It was still extremely early and he had time.

* * *

The sudden rush of cold air against his skin made goosebumps erupt over his skin. He had been right, it was very early. The lake made occasional ripples and the Giant Squid broke the smooth surface of the water with one of it's tentacles before disappearing underneath. The crunch of leaves and grass under his feet was loud as he walked towards the oak tree. Almost all the leaves had fallen, leaving the branches bare except for a few yellow leaves that had managed to cling on. The wind swirled the leaves on the ground, making them float in circles for a while before settling them back down.

The lake was gorgeous, the best times to visit would be early in the morning and in the evening when the sun was about to set. He had only visited the lake in the mornings but had glanced out his window before in the evenings and honestly, it was quite a sight. He wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck, the fabric soft against his pale skin. September would soon come to an end. His breaths came out in white clouds that disappeared with the air. Winter was his favourite season of the year for it was when the world turned white and all the dirt and blemishes disappeared under the soft crunchy snow. It was cold and calming, a time where he could think without distractions.

It reminded him of what splendid beauty life could bring even if life itself was ugly in truth.

He sat down with his back leaning against the trunk of a tree, he always sat beneath the same tree. The one with the incredibly dark wood, with the large crack on one branch. The one with the pebbles near it, for he liked to throw pebbles into the water and watch them skip before sinking into the depths of the lake.

He picked up an oval shaped pebble, feeling it's smooth surface in the palm of his hand. It was not too heavy, neither was it very light. He positioned the pebble in his hand and flung it into the air.

It sailed in the air for a while and hopped on the water three times before sinking into the waters. He heard the nearby crunch of leaves and looked up to see her making her way towards him.

"May I join you?" she asked politely.

He nodded, averting his gaze back to the lake. It had been two weeks since they had sat under the same tree, but the other time it had been him asking if he could accompany her. She sat down on the grass, her clad legs stretched out in front of her slightly bent up at the knees. There was a moment of silence where he threw another pebble, it skimmed the waters and hopped twice before disappearing with a splash. He turned his head to look at her, she was staring at the spot where his pebble had sunk into the murky depths.

She averted her eyes to him, once aware of his gaze. She had wide brown eyes and her curls were a mess, tumbling down her back. Her Gryffindor scarf was tied securely around her neck, he pushed aside a part of her scarf hiding the skin near the jaw. He frowned, his cold fingers lightly skimming over a scar there. It was of mediocre length but not very deep or noticeable unless one looked carefully. He looked back at her, his eyes questioning.

Her cheeks were tinted red, but he couldn't be sure whether it was because of the cold or their proximity. He assumed it was the former. His fingers lingered on the scar, lightly brushing against it.

"I tripped when I was six," she said simply, giving him a weak smile.

"Oh..." he said, removing his fingers from her skin and tucking the scarf back.

She stared hard at him, seeming confused. Her brows were furrowed and she bit her bottom lip. He glanced down at her lips and back to her eyes. He raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"I-I don't know, you're suddenly extremely pleasant towards me and to think that you hated me the year before."

"I didn't hate you Granger. I never did. It was merely dislike, but never hate. I've only hated one man in my life, Granger."

"And who–" her eyes widened in realisation, her sentence trailing off.

Voldemort.

"Oh..." She said as she realised, her frown softening.

"I've learnt my lesson, Granger. The war helped me realise how silly I was as a child. It taught me that everyone was equal, blood was all the same. Red." He said, his voice softening as he said the last word. His thumb brushed against the scar on her neck, his eyes trained on it before looking back at her.

She was no longer flushed nor was she embarrassed by his gentle actions. Her eyes had softened to a warm honey brown and she was wearing an understanding smile.

"I'm glad."


	6. Drifting

**The Two Musicians**

Chapter 6: Drifting

By Silver Chessboards

* * *

"Granger?"

"Yes?"

"What goes well with this?" he showed her his piece of parchment in which he had scribbled several notes on the bars.

It had been a week since the morning by the lake. The morning when she had first said his given name. The morning when they had come to an understanding. Ever since that fateful morning, almost every morning or evening, he would find her there studying or playing her beloved instrument. Or she would stumble across him, doing the same.

They were seated at the desk in the corner of the music room, bits of parchment and inkwells and books surrounding them. She had fallen asleep the night before whilst doing her homework and had found him in the music room doing his composition.

There had been several times when they had both retrieved their compositions and tried to help the other figure out a way to continue it. Evenings and mornings with her were spent in blissful silence with the exception of the occasional chat. She was a quiet companion, smart and good at holding a conversation. And that was something he found that he liked about her.

He never had known someone whom was clever enough to talk to without spouting nonsense. Many Slytherins couldn't even hold an intelligent conversation. Including Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy and all the other empty-headed twits.

He found that she had several habits, all of which he found rather amusing. She often fell asleep whilst studying and she liked a piping hot mug of hot chocolate an hour before bed. She would chew her lip when she was deep in thought and when writing her composition, she would unconsciously drum her fingernails on the table.

Plus, she talked in her sleep.

"Well, you could try a C or a G," she suggested, yawning.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Did you fall asleep late last night?"

She nodded, with a sheepish smile.

His brows furrowed slightly.

"It's bad for you,"

"I know, but I have to study," she said, twirling her quill in her hand.

The room fell silent and the only noise made was the scratching of quill on parchment. It was a while before the scratching stopped and he felt a sudden weight resting on his shoulder. He froze, dropping his quill. Her head was rested on his shoulder. Her chestnut curls were strewn all over, tickling his face. He could smell apples again, sweet like spring. Her eyes were closed and her breathing slow. He had never noticed the light sprinkling of freckles splattered over the bridge of her nose and her cheeks, not as much as Weasley's of course. Her porcelain skin seemed to glow in the bright morning light. He stood and gently lifted her up in his arms, careful not to drop her head.

She felt warm in his arms.

His blond locks fell across his eyes as he looked down at her. He walked over to the bed at the back of the music room. He had never transfigured it back after the first time he had to tuck the same girl into bed after she had lost consciousness. He slipped her under the covers and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

He would help her complete her homework, whether she liked it or not. After all, she wouldn't have the time to do it once she awoke from the clutches of sleep.

* * *

She was tucked under a warm and comfortable duvet bit it certainly wasn't hers. She had a vague memory of waking up earlier in her own bed. Furrowing her brows slightly, she sat up and her eyes immediately landed on the wizard who was immersed in his own work.

"Good morning."

He looked up from his work and nodded, "Good morning, Granger."

She then remembered that she had been doing her work before she had probably drifted off to sleep. A smile lit her features; he had probably tucked her into bed. Again. She slid out of bed and walked over to the table and seated herself beside him. He turned to look at her and smirked. She didn't know it, but her hair was a mess.

"What?" she asked, confused by his evident amusement.

"Nothing," he replied smoothly, patting her on the head before averting his attention back to his work.

"Where's my work?" she asked, her eyes scanning the table. He paused in his writing and turned to look at her.

"I finished it." She frowned.

"Why?"

"You were tired, Granger. You probably wouldn't have been able to finish it when you woke up," he explained. She certainly looked exhausted; bags were starting to show underneath her eyes and her skin had become a shade paler.

"Here, drink," he tossed her a flask from his satchel.

"It's coffee," he said, watching as she opened the flask.

He averted his eyes back to his work. He had completed his essay and it was twenty minutes till class started. He slipped his writing materials into his satchel and got up, slinging the bag over his shoulder. Granger passed the flask back to him, having drunk some of its contents. Her eyes widened as he opened the flask and took a sip.

He had placed his lips right over the rim of the flask where she had placed hers just moments ago.

"What?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, after downing the coffee.

She blushed, "Nothing."

"Well, classes start in a bit. Come on, Granger."

* * *

Breakfast at the Gryffindor table was like any other. Cheerful. Hermione bit into her toast, Ron hadn't shown up again. Not that she wanted him to, of course. It felt much better without him around.

"Say, where's Ron?" Seamus asked Harry casually.

"He always has breakfast earlier than the rest of us," Harry shrugged. Oh, Hermione thought. Ron probably was avoiding her as well.

She preferred it that way.

She finished up quickly, grabbing her satchel and walking out of the Great Hall after hurried goodbyes to Harry and Ginny. The corridor she was using to get to her Charms classroom was a shortcut. It was vacant, as always. She walked with brisk steps, her books clutched tightly in her arms.

Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her aside rather forcefully. She let out a yelp of surprise. Said person, however, did not let go. She looked up to see blue eyes staring back at her.

It was Ron.

"What do you want?" she hissed, her eyes narrowing.

"I just want to explain," he replied, his eyes pleading.

"I don't want to listen!" she shouted, trying to pull her arm from his grasp. But his hold only tightened.

"Let me explain!" he shouted back, the tips of his ears reddening.

"Let go, Ronald," she said through gritted teeth, fuming. The nerve! How dare he cheat on her and come to her, expecting her to accept a ruddy apology.

"I-" Ron opened his mouth to speak but he was cut off.

"Let her go, Weasley," it was Malfoy. He had appeared as if out of nowhere, his blond locks tousled and his satchel slung over his shoulder. He spoke calmly, evidently not wanting to stir up a fight.

"Wha–"

"I told you to let her go." He repeated. "Or are you deaf?" He added, elegantly raising an eyebrow.

Ron's face was almost the same colour as his hair.

"Why y—

He released Hermione's arm, sneering as he strode towards the blond. "And since when did you care for her?" he spat menacingly.

"I don't. Ten points from Gryffindor for manhandling another student." He said shortly, side-stepping the other wizard and making his way towards Hermione.

* * *

"Are you alright?" Draco frowned, examining her arm. It was an angry shade of red, after being in a strong grip. She nodded, wincing as his fingers lightly brushed over the bruised skin. Ron had stormed away, leaving the two alone in the corridor. She blushed, aware of their sudden proximity. She could feel his heat radiating from him. The smell of his cologne wafted over to her and she could hear his even breathing.

"Weasley's a bastard," he said as he waved his wand over her arm, the redness faded away. He looked up and was surprised to see that she was smiling.

"Thank you."

And then she stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips over his cheek.

* * *

His immediately tensed as her lips brushed over his cheek. It had felt good, that much he would admit. But he wasn't sure how she would want him to react. He wasn't used to such bold public displays of affection. He had grown up being taught that feelings like love were useless and weak.

He could still hear his father's voice ringing in the back of his head, telling him that it was foolish to feel such things. And he could still remember how he had nodded and accepted his words, believing everything he said. In fifth year, he had realised how he didn't want to serve Voldemort. He didn't want a cruel fate that his father had. Years of serving Voldemort had turned Lucius Malfoy into a shell of what he used to be.

As a child he had often heard his mother cry when she thought no one was around. Her heart-wrenching sobs were painful to hear, especially to a young eleven-year-old who wanted nothing more than to see his mother smile. He had never experienced the love of a parent as a child. Lucius had made sure that his mother showed no such emotions to him. The expensive sweets his mother had sent him at school were just for show.

Hermione froze and stepped back, knowing that she had done the wrong thing. He felt a twinge of guilt as she looked at him apologetically. Her eyes were a warm brown, searching his face for any emotion. But he kept a blank face. He didn't know how to respond to her little gesture; it felt awkward. Was he supposed to smile and say something nice like how all her friends did?

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered nervously, chewing on her lip. He suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable.

"It's alright," he heard himself say in a flat tone. He inwardly cursed himself for being such an arse.

"I-I'm just used to doing that -"

"I know," he said abruptly, cutting her off.

"I think I'm late for Charms. I guess I'll, um, see you around." And she hurried off, not sparing him another glance.

He mentally chided himself as he watched the brunette walk away. It wasn't that he didn't like the way she showed her affection. Quite, the contrary actually. He never knew that things like simple kisses on the cheek could cause such happiness. But his momentary happiness had lasted only a while, for he had pushed her away with his words although he hadn't meant to. He didn't even allow himself to relish the moment, and now he could only appreciate the memory.

He didn't know what to do when it came to things like public displays of affection. Things like that were best left to Gryffindors.

He had put a barrier between them, something that had disappeared over the many weeks of September.

* * *

It had been _three_ weeks. Well two and a half, actually.

She didn't visit the music room anymore. It was always dark and empty when he arrived in the evenings. And each time he visited, he would feel a pang of regret for pushing her away. The room felt empty without her laughter or just her comforting presence. He had ignored the feeling in his gut and continued whatever he was doing in the music room. He hated to admit it, but he rather ... missed her company. He missed the intellectual conversations they would have and the times when they would help the other with homework or the composition.

But he refused to approach her and make amends. After all, it wasn't him who had kissed her on the cheek. And every time he told himself this, there would always be a small voice in the back of his head telling him that it was he who pushed her away. He hated how it was right. The music that he played on the piano started to lean towards depressing.

He still saw her everyday, though. At lessons, mealtimes, and when they crossed paths in corridors. She would always be flanked by Gryffindors and he'd be with Blaise Zabini, a friend. No more than a glance was spared whenever he saw her and she, him. It felt as if the time they spent together in the music room had never existed. It was painful to know that she didn't want to spend any more time in his company.

Coming back for seventh year had been painful for him. He had been shoved to the side and spoken of behind his back. The whispers and glares directed at him had been inevitable. And many chose to ignore him. None of them, however, knew that he had helped the Order during the war and had defected after the death of Dumbledore.

He had visited Dumbledore a week before the day he was supposed to murder the man. At the time, he had become increasingly panicked as the days passed. He didn't want to kill, he couldn't do it. But to refuse, the penalty was death.

The old man had even offered him a lemon drop, which he had politely declined. He had listened in silence and hadn't looked the slightest bit surprised after Draco had finished. The headmaster had calmly explained that it had already been planned that Snape would do the deed. It amazed Draco, even up to this day, that Dumbledore would have so willingly given up his life to save someone else; someone who used to make extremely rude comments about him.

After the murder of Dumbledore, he had been escorted out of Hogwarts by the Death Eaters and Snape. His death had been feigned by careful planning on Snape's part and he was taken away to number twelve Grimmauld place. The older members of the Order had seemed to embrace the idea of him joining whilst the younger members, including Potter and Weasley, had ignored him.

All except for Hermione.

She had been civil and even friendly whilst he had stayed there. He remembered the days of hiding away in his room, refusing to come out except for meal times and toilet breaks. And she'd always be there, in the seat next to his usual one. Everyone ignored his presence, all but some of the older order members and Hermione. She had even gone as far as making small talk with him as they ate.

He had been in an unfamiliar place, where everyone treated him with disdain.

And she made him feel not so alone.

* * *

_A memory_

The light was dim in his room, but bright enough for reading. His eyes skimmed over the words, barely registering what it said. He had been reading the same sentence again and again but he couldn't concentrate. The laughter from downstairs could be heard through the wooden floorboards and it irked him to no end.

It was Christmas Eve.

Knock, knock.

He looked up from his book, frowning. It was probably the house elf who had taken a strange liking to him; after all, who would think of Draco Malfoy on Christmas Eve? He groaned; there was only one other person who had a warm enough heart to do that.

"May I come in?" a muffled voice was heard through the door.

"No," he said without hesitation, averting his attention back to his book. Maybe she would leave him alone. The door creaked open and she slipped in, fingering the edge of her jumper nervously. He looked up from his book, scowling.

"You should come down to the feast," she murmured, eyes darting around the room to avoid his penetrating gaze.

"No," he said bluntly, averting his attention to his book.

"Bu-"

"I said no, Granger," he repeated himself.

"Fine, I'll stay here with you then," she said in a tone that meant she wouldn't change her mind. She was unbelievably stubborn sometimes.

"Whatever."

She made her way over to him and sat at the edge of his bed. The bed sagged under her weight and he could feel her eyes on him. Merlin, didn't she understand that he just wanted to be left alone?

"What book are you reading?" she asked him curiously.

"A muggle book by this person named ... Wilham Saltshaker I think." he replied, still not looking at her.

"You mean William Shakespeare," she corrected. He rolled his eyes.

"Yes, of course Granger," he replied with the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Which book is it?"

And the night had continued. Somehow they managed to carry on an interesting conversation that lasted until midnight.

* * *

**Author's Note**

I am so sorry that I took ages with this chapter! You see, my previous beta was too busy and resigned from the role. So I had to get a new beta reader and to those of you who write, you probably know how hard it is to get one. So thank you to 'When In Doubt Smile' for doing an excellent job of beta-ing this chapter which was pretty crappy before it reached her.

I know I've been absolute rubbish lately, but school's being a pain in the you-know-where and Writer's block is terrible. I hope you guys forgive me! To those of you who read Stained Glass, I'm having a terrible case of Writer's block for Chapter 15. I can't seem to find my knack for humour.

Here's a hug to everyone who reviewed. Thanks for reading and I'll try to update soon!

Silver Chessboards


	7. Drowning

**The Two Musicians**

Chapter 7: Drowning

By Silver Chessboards

_Author's Note_

_I feel so bad for taking a month to update. I'm hopeless when I get Writer's Block and I had to rewrite this chapter several times until I got it right. I hope you like it. Many thanks to When In Doubt, Smile who did an excellent job of editing this chapter for me :) Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I baked a cake for you guys._

* * *

The world had never felt so cold to him before. Delicate white tendrils fell down from the sky; it was the beginning of December. He sat under the usual tree and stared out into the distance. He felt extremely thankful for the warming charm he had cast upon himself. It was a chilly morning and it had been a chilly night as well.

The sun had not graced the sky with its weak rays yet and the whole castle was asleep. His breath escaped his cracked lips in silky puffs of white that died into the cold winter air. He leaned his head against the wooden trunk of the oak and closed his eyes. It was so peacefully silent in the world at that moment and he felt like he was drifting away.

He thought about Granger. She had uttered not a word to him in the three weeks they had been avoiding each other. The music room felt like it had lost it's meaning without her there. He missed her and the little quirks that made her Granger. He remembered the way a dimple would form at the corner of her mouth when she smiled and how she would fall asleep so easily when studying with him. He remembered how her bones would make cracking noises after a night of studying and how he would be rendered speechless at her smile.

She was one of the most kindest people he knew and sometimes he felt like his mere presence was tainting her. She was everything he wasn't and he had enjoyed the time they had spent in the music room together.

He knew that he would never regain those moments.

* * *

Hermione sat up in bed, her hair a mess framing her pale face. She felt so tired, like her bones were heavy rocks weighing her down. She fought hard to keep her eyes open as she got out of bed and got dressed in her school robes. She didn't bother bushing her hair and messily knotted her tie around her neck as she slammed the portrait door behind her.

Her satchel was loaded with many heavy tomes and her shoulder hurt from the weight. She fought the fatigue in her eyes and quickly made her way down the moving staircases. She was headed for the library and in the early hours of the morning when everyone else was fast asleep, she would be able to study in silence.

It was early morning and dark outside which meant that she had plenty of time before breakfast. Hermione made sure not to wake any of the sleeping portraits, walking with soft footsteps. With every step she took, her satchel felt heavier and so did her eyelids. She felt dizzy and there were sharp pains in her chest. She staggered, stopping in her steps to hold on to the banister. She felt her legs collapse under her and a sharp pain in the side of her head.

And then there was nothing.

* * *

He trudged back to the castle, thankful that the snow was not that deep yet. His warming charm had already faded; he hadn't bothered with renewing it and it was bloody cold out. He pushed open the entrance door slightly and walked in. A rush of warm toasty air greeted him as he entered. There was plenty of time before everyone awoke and set to breakfast. He could vaguely recall there being homework that he hadn't done yet.

He set off to the library, noting how silent the castle was early in the morning. The portraits he passed were snoring, deep in sleep that would not be interrupted until daylight came. The high windows showed the dark sky outside and the cold mist on its glass. Draco turned a corner on the stairs and immediately regcognised the familiar paintings on the opposite wall. He was nearing the library; just a few more familiar paintings to past. His eyes slid over the slumbering portraits and to something—no, someone—slumped on the floor, unconscious. He frowned, drawing closer. And on closer inspection, he realised that it was Granger.

A wave of panic shot through him, anything could have happened to her. Several possibilities ran through his mind, each as unseemly as the last. He nervously chewed his lip, he didn't know what to do and Madam Pomfrey was probably asleep. He had two options, to leave her there for someone to find or bring her to the hospital wing himself. He opted for the latter and took her petite frame into his arms.

She was like a limp corpse and if it were not for the slight rise and falls of her chest, he would have believed her dead. Her skin was pallid and sickly, and cold to the touch. And he could've sworn he saw her eyelids flicker for a moment before closing. Bile rose in his throat as he quickened his pace and broke into a run. He didn't know what was wrong with her and that scared him. It scared him more than he thought it would.

And Draco Malfoy was rarely afraid of anything at all. Soon, the kissing white doors of the hospital wing came into view and he shouldered pass them. The doors slammed open and his eyes frantically scanned the wing for the Madam Pomfrey. The motherly woman emerged from a door, which he assumed led to her quarters, dressed in a nightgown. Upon seeing him and the head girl in his arms, she instructed him to lay her down at a bed. She continued to check several things, such as her pulse and temperature.

"What's wrong with her?" was the first thing he said. And his frowned deepened when the nurse did not answer him. He didn't want to know what would happen if Granger died. The thought was too disturbing. She had become someone of...importance to him and losing her was something he didn't want to go through.

"Wha—" he was about to repeat his question but was cut off.

"Don't worry, Mister Malfoy. It doesn't seem to be anything life threatening," she reassured him. Immediately, relief washed over him. He sank back into his chair, silently thanking Merlin. It was probably just a fever or something of the sort. Granger would be fine. After several muttered incantations and wand movements, Madam Pomfrey turned to him.

"She has low blood pressure, caused by poor eating habits. She'll have to stay in the hospital wing for a few days and seeing that this is Miss Granger, I'll need you to bring her class work for her."

"Oh..." he said, not entirely sure what low blood pressure was but it didn't sound very nice at all. The nurse nodded at him and headed back to her quarters to sleep.

He sat beside her bed, contemplating whether she would like forget-me-nots or daffodils more. He decided to go with the forget-me-nots and muttered a charm. A bunch of light pastel blue flowers sprung from his hand and he placed them in a vase. He took one last parting glance at her before he left.

* * *

Hermione groggily opened her eyes. It took a moment for her to register that she was, in fact, in the hospital wing. She sat up in the bed, feeling slightly better than the last time she had been awake. She felt a slight furrow between her brows as she searched her memory for what had happened. She could recall vague memories of an early morning and a brief flash of bright platinum, but that was it.

"Oh, you're awake Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said as she parted the curtains to enter. She passed her a glass of bubbly blue potion and instructed her to drink.

"Why—"

"Questions later, dear, drink up," the nurse said in a firm tone. Hermione obliged, downing the potion quickly. It tasted strange, sweet, and unpleasantly foul. It made her tastebuds tingle and felt like ice as it sild down her throat. She made a face at the taste and gave the glass to Madam Pomfrey who started to check on things like her temperature. She opened her mouth to ask the nurse a question but hadn't even uttered a word when the nurse started explaining.

"You fainted, my dear. Due to low blood pressure and also because you haven't been eating well. Lucky that a young man decided to bring you—"

"A young man?"

"Yes," said Madam Pomfrey. "Draco Malfoy, if I remember correctly. He had been very demanding, seemed very worried about you," the older woman smiled kindly at her and she felt herself flush. She hadn't talked to Malfoy in weeks and felt a rush of gracefulness towards the wizard. He had been very distant and had been blatantly ignoring her which had hurt a bit. Doing something like this out of the blue startled her. He really had changed.

"Now, what have you been eating?" Madam Pomfrey interrupted her thoughts. She flushed red at this question, she hadn't been eating very much in the past three weeks. Studying had been the constant thing on her mind and she had gotten into a habit of reading more than eating during meal times, sometimes skipping meals entirely.

"Um..." she trailed off.

"Well?"

"I've not been eating very much," Hermione admitted reluctantly. "I've been busy."

"That's not a good enough reason, you'll have to stay in the hospital wing for two more days," Madam Pomfrey said disapprovingly.

"Two days?" she almost shouted.

"Yes, Miss Granger, you haven't been nourished properly for a few weeks and it takes a while for your body to regain these needed nutrients. Low blood pressure isn't life threatening but if you continue like this, it will worsen. You're starting to look a little thin dear."

"But I've got school work and—"

"I'll have all your school work taken to you here so that you may keep yourself busy."

That silenced Hermione immediately. Madam Pomfrey gave her a small smile and hurried off. She glanced at the time. It was an early morning and Malfoy was probably down at the lake.

Speaking of Malfoy, he had been popping into her mind at the most random times when she did not want him there. She had thought about him a lot, although she didn't want to. She had wondered whether he liked talking to her and spending time in her company because he had been rather cold since she had kissed—no, pecked— him on the cheek.

She would find herself occasionally absentmindedly searching the hallways for a familiar head of blond and would abruptly stop, remembering that he didn't want to associate himself with her anymore. She scowled at the mere thought of him. Draco bloody Malfoy.

He would be extremely pleasant one second and the next it would be like he had disappeared. Potion classes were the worst because he was sat behind her and she swore that she could feel his gaze boring into her. She didn't know why he even bothered to look at her.

She was nothing.

Nothing special. Just Hermione Granger.

He kept sending mixed signals that were extremely hard to understand. And she still wasn't sure whether he wanted to be friends—or not.

* * *

He slipped between the white curtains and took a seat beside her bed. She was in a peaceful slumber. For a fleeting moment he wondered why Madam Pomfrey had instructed him to deliver homework to her and not Potter. He placed the stack of books on the nightstand. The blue flowers he had conjured were still fresh and had not wilted in the slightest. He took her small wrist in his hand and traced meaningless patterns on the back of her hand. He contemplated leaving so that she would never know who had conjured the flowers or brought her books for her.

He was just about to leave when her eyes opened. Their eyes connected and he didn't dare look away. It felt like he was drowning in the depths of her eyes. They were of a deep brown, flecked with gold and shades of lighter brown. He had forgotten how it felt like to look into her eyes and realised how he had desperately missed it. Just having her stare back at him was something he hadn't experienced for three weeks and he felt sorry that he had been such a sensitive git to her.

"Hi," she whispered softly. He gulped; her voice was something he hadn't heard in a long time as well.

"Hi," he replied, just as soft. He bit his lip nervously and she glanced over to the vase of forget-me-nots and back to him.

"Did you...?" she trailed off and he nodded slowly. There was a moment of silence where he avoided her gaze and she tried hard to catch his eye.

"Draco," she said, her voice raspy as she placed her hand over his. He looked up, surprised that she had said his first name. She continued, "I-I...I think that I want t-to be friends."

She stuttered as she spoke, looking at their hands. His eyebrows shot up his hairline. Friends? Like how she was chummy and close with Potter? He didn't want something like that ... In fact, he didn't know what he wanted with her.

"I-I promise I won't do something like that again," she said softly, and he knew that she was referring to the peck.

"Granger, I've been an outright git to you and...I'm s-sorry," he said, having a little trouble with saying the last two words. He had never apologised with this much sincerity in his voice before. And he was surprised to find that he meant every word that he said.

She smiled weakly at him, "It's alright, Draco. I didn't mind, not that much a-anyway."

"No, I'm sorry. I was wrong to be so...cold to you and the only thing you had done was—"

"I said it's okay, everything's back to normal now right?"

"Y-Yes," he said softly and repeated himself, this time louder, "...Yes."

But she had already fallen asleep.

* * *

She had been reading for exactly seventeen minutes when he arrived in his school robes. He strode into the hospital wing, hair disheveled, his satchel slung over his shoulder and a few books in his arms. A small smile tugged at her lips as he sat down and all but dumped the books on the nightstand. He have her a weak smile and sat back in his chair.

"Hello."

"Hello," he returned the greeting. There was a moment of silence where she twiddled with her thumbs and he looked at anywhere but her. She looked up at him, almost shyly.

"How are you?"

"Peachy," was his short reply as he ran a hand through his hair, "There was a lot of school work today."

She nodded slowly and gestured to the books on the nightstand, "Are those...?"

"Your school work," he said, handing her one from the top of the pile. Their fingers briefly brushed against each other when she took the book from him and she was certain she had felt something, like electricity. She was sure he had felt it too but he remained indifferent so perhaps it was just her imagination.

"What is he doing here?" said a familiar voice from behind the blond. Draco turned and raised an eyebrow.

"Why, Potter, lovely day isn't it?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," the dark haired boy said menacingly, scowling.

"Harry!" Hermione said in surprise, her eyes meeting those of a vibrant green. Harry frowned at the blond, curiosity and suspicion blatant on his face.

"I need to talk to Harry," Hermione said apologetically to the blond. Draco nodded and left.

"So, you're telling me that you and Malfoy are friends?" Harry said, putting emphasis on the last word. He stared at Hermione and then blinked in disbelief. Hermione could already predict what was running through his head. He probably thought it was just a little joke they had planned. Or perhaps he thought that she had gone mental. And he was right.

"You're joking, right? Please tell me you're joking," he said, laughing nervously. She fixed him with a firm gaze, it was very obvious that she wasn't joking at all. His weak laughter seized immediately and he returned her gaze, a furrow between his brows.

"Really, Hermione? Malfoy?"

"Yes, Harry. I never intended to become friends with him, it just happened," she explained, "A-And, I think he's changed. He's really changed, Harry. He's not that little git we hated anymore, he's...different now."

"I don't like it, Hermione. I don't like it at all. I never liked Malfoy, you know that and I find it hard to believe that he's changed, and for the better. But if you want to be friends with him..." Harry sighed and looked her dead in the eye, "I trust you Hermione. You're smart and you can make your own decisions but if he hurts you, I'll blast his—"

"Don't tell Ron, alright?" she cut him off.

"I won't. He'd go absolutely mad," Harry nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose. He then retrieved a book from his bag and set it on top of the stack of books on the nightstand.

"I bought you a new book," he smiled.

"I love you, Harry. Do you know that?"

"I love you too, 'Mione."

* * *

Two days passed so fast, it felt like no time had passed at all. It was a Thursday morning when she woke up, this time in her own bed.

The whole castle was asleep in the early hours of the morning, except for her. She sat up and stared at her hands, knowing that sleep would not take her until the next night. She smiled as she pulled open the beige curtains. It had snowed over night and outside, the world was cover in a blanket of white. She quickly got dressed, making sure to wear gloves and knot her Gryffindor scarf around her neck.

She was tired but that could not keep her from wanting to go outside in the snow. There was a little skip in her step as she walked down the moving staircases, past the creaking armours and into the entrance hall of the castle. She pushed open the door, a grin lighting up her features as she saw the snow.

A gush of glacial wind immediately woke her senses up completely; it was extremely cold out. She cast several charms on herself to keep herself warm and dry and headed out into the open. The lake had yet to freeze over and no doubt would soon for the dropping temperature. She walked over to the familiar oak tree and almost sat down when she realised two things that made her stop.

One, the ground had snow on it and although she had cast several charms she was still reluctant to sit down. And two, Draco Malfoy was up in the tree, peering down at her. She met his gaze and there was a silent staring contest before he said something that made her avert her gaze.

"Are you coming up?" she nodded and grabbed a bough, pulling herself up. It took a while, but she finally got to the top where she sat down next to him. He glanced at her; there were crystal snowflakes in her hair and he thought that they looked lovely.

"Why are you up so early?" she asked, turning to meet his gaze.

"Why are you up so early?"

"Must you answer a question with another question?"

He chuckled.

"Well, I couldn't sleep," she said, staring out into the distance. The trees had finished shedding their leaves and were bare, leaving them clearly visible to anyone who did look out of the window. But what did she care?

"Me too."

She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. He turned his head in surprise and caught a strong waft of her shampoo. Apples, it was so simple and so like Granger. They sat there in silence, content with what they had. They were friends and he liked being friends with her. She was a wonderful person and everything about her made him want to know more.

He frowned as he realised that he did not know much about her, not very much at all. He knew the basic things but he did not know things like her favourite book or what music she preferred or the name of her ghastly cat. He felt something warm slip into his hand and it was took a moment before he realised that it was a hand, Granger's hand. His eyes widened and he looked at her and blinked hard.

She was holding hands with him. A rush of warmth flooded his senses and he felt a small smile grace his features.

"Granger?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I call you Hermione?"

"Can I call you Draco?"

"Must you answer a question with another question?"

"I'll take that as a yes then."

"Hermione," he said, testing the way her name rolled off his tongue. "Hermione," he repeated.

"Yes, Draco?" he smiled at her, deciding that he liked it when she said his name.

"What's your favourite book?"


	8. Lingering Touches

**The Two Musicians**

_Chapter 8: Lingering Touches_

_By Silver Chessboards_

Song in this chapter: Prelude No.7 by Chopin

* * *

In the next few weeks Draco and Hermione talked about the weather, themselves, and all the things that simply did not matter. Her favourite colour was blue and her birthday was in September. She liked Peppermint and Earl Grey tea and always took her tea with two sugars, no milk. She didn't like coffee very much for it's bitter taste but always had a mug of it when she had to pull all-nighters. She didn't have a favourite book because there were "too many" but one of her favourites was 'Hogwarts: a History'. Her favourite season was Fall, because the leaves reminded her of sunsets.

It was a chilly morning by the lake and she had joined him, bundled up warmly in a red sweater and jeans. She had wished him a good morning and collapsed unceremoniously on the soft snow. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. Her knees were drawn to her chest and she hummed a tune under her breath. It was Christmas day and students were boarding the Hogwarts Express that day to London. She was going home to celebrate Christmas and he was going back to the manor where he'd spend Christmas like any other day, but he didn't tell her that. His father was in Azkaban and his mother was in Switzerland and he didn't really mind spending Christmas alone;his family had never celebrated it anyways.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Here," she thrust a box into his hands. It was a present, neatly wrapped in blue patterned paper and bound with a ribbon. His eyebrows shot up. He had never received a present before. At least not the kind that people gave because they genuinely cared.

"But I didn't get you—" he begun but was cut off.

"It doesn't matter, I don't care anyway," she shrugged. "But I want you to have this, so keep it Draco."

Silence met her words. He wanted to get her something, he really did. And he felt bad that he hadn't thought of getting her a gift earlier.

"We should get back to the castle for breakfast," she said as she stood, brushing the snow off the back of her jeans.

"Oh, of course," he replied and got up. There was a moment's of silence when he didn't speak and neither did she. This would be the last time they would see each other for a week. And Draco knew that that week would be a strange one. He had gotten used to her presence and time had turned them into friends. But he wasn't sure if his feelings could be purely platonic. Sometimes he caught himself thinking about how her hair was such a lovely shade of brown or how he liked the dimple at the side of her mouth. And he didn't know what to think anymore.

The snow in her long unruly hair looked like crystals and her lips were curved up in a timid smile. Her skin was a milky shade and she seemed to blend in with the beauty of winter. Her breath were smudged clouds of whites that disappeared only to be replaced again. He absentmindedly counted the freckles spattered over the bridge of her nose. He wanted to remember her like this, the last time he would see her for a week. The way it sounded in his mind was ridiculous but he couldn't help himself.

She was so beautiful.

"I'll see you in a week," she said softly as she slipped her hands around his torso as if it were something she did everyday. And then he couldn't breathe. Being so close to her was something he could not describe. He was surrounded by the scent he had unconsciously come to associate with her. And he felt...warm. Warm in a way that he had never felt before. It started from his chest and spread out to the tips of his toes. A sigh escaped his cracked lips in a mist of white that faded in the cold air of winter.

A week wasn't such a long time.

* * *

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A sleek grey owl was perched on the windowsill, peering in with large yellow eyes. Hermione opened the window to allow it in and a gush of cold wind entered the house. She shivered as the cold bit at her. The owl swooped in, dropped a parcel on the table and flew out the window as fast as it had arrived. Hermione picked up the parcel, wondering who it was from. It was a simple package wrapped in parchment and tied with a string.

"Who is it from, Hermione?" asked her mother curiously who was sat at the table, reading the newspaper.

"I don't know," she replied.

There was a note attached to the front and it said nothing but 'Happy Christmas', which was written in an elegant script. She recognized the handwriting immediately. She had seen it so many times, it was imbedded into her memory. The parcel was from Draco Malfoy and he had, apparently, decided to owl a gift to her.

"Well?" her mother asked, looking rather interested.

"It doesn't say," the Gryffindor murmured truthfully. She didn't want to tell her mother than she and Draco had been rather friendly as of late. When she was twelve, she had told her parents all sorts of dreadful stories about Draco and they hadn't liked the sound of him at all. She pulled the thin string binding the gift and the parchment fell away to reveal a small box. Inside were three quills laid out on a velvet cushion. They were incredibly soft to the touch. The edges of the soft hairs were glided in different colours for each quill. There were red, gold, and silver. Hermione smiled, she would no doubt be using them very often.

"You'll be visiting Diagon Alley today, won't you?" her mother asked.

"Yeah," Hermione said as she took a seat at the table opposite her mother.

"Get me some of those toothflossing stringmints, won't you?"

Hermione grinned, "Of course."

* * *

A shard of sunlight hit his pale skin through a crack in the velvet curtains. Draco Malfoy blinked a few times before he was fully awake. It was snowing heavily outside and he wondered what he would do that day. Thank Merlin, there weren't anymore boring lessons to attend anymore. He didn't know if he'd be able to stand another hour of Professor Bins droning on about Goblin Revolutions and whatnot.

He had spent a few days in the company of two good friends, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. Blaise would be busy that day for he was visiting Italy for a day to see his relatives. Theo's mum was 'forcing him to spend time with family'. He had a whole day at his disposal and he hadn't a clue of what to do.

He stared at the blank ceiling, perhaps he'd visit Diagon Alley. Or maybe Belfast. It was boxing day and most wizards were probably relaxing at home. The previous day he had opened his Christmas presents, his mother had sent him a green scarf, Blaise had gotten him leather Quidditch gloves and Hermione had predictably bought him a book. But it was a very pretty book. It was a leather bound copy of 'The Wizard of Oz', a children's story book judging from the illustrations. And a muggle one at that. Not that he cared, of course.

He sat up in bed, his bones made cracking noises as he bent his spine. He thought of the time he had teased Hermione about her aged bones. He chuckled softly to himself, running a hand through his tousled locks. He slipped out of the bed and padded to the bathroom, the carpet soft between his toes. He swung the bathroom door open and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror before stepping into the shower.

The searing water awoke his senses immediately. It loosened the tense muscles in his back as it pounded down on him. He thought about the past few days and smiled to himself. It had been very relaxing and peaceful and he quite liked spending time with his friends. He had had a good wander around the manor and had broken an antique vase in the North wing by accident (which he repaired with magic). Rousing the portraits from sleep early up in the morning had been fun as well for they started grumbling and swearing at him in language that he found amusing.

* * *

His eyes widened immediately at the person he saw sat at the dining table. She was leisurely flipping through a copy of the Daily Prophet, in a dress with her blonde hair elegantly coiffed. She looked up at his arrival and for a moment they stared at each other in silence. Her blue eyes met his and a delicate smile spread over her face.

"M-Mother," he said, at a loss for words. She looked exactly the same as the last time he had seen her. She had gone to stay with a cousin in Switzerland after the war and he hadn't seen her for months. He swallowed nervously and seemed to find the strength in him to lift his legs and move towards her.

"Draco," she said, rising to give him a hug. Her arms wrapped around him and he placed his hands on her back, burying his face in her crook between her neck and shoulder. He pulled apart from her, a small smile on his lips. She gently patted his cheek and said, "Sit down, dear. Dippy has prepared a lovely breakfast." (She's perfectly in-character!)

He nodded, taking a seat across her. He had not seen her in months and her sudden appearance was surprising and relieving at the same time. Sometimes when he thought of her, he could not help but be rather worried. She looked a great deal healthier than the woman he had seen months ago during the war. She was not as pallid and her age lines seemed to have smoothed out with the peace brought with the aftermath of the war. He took his time piling his plate with food as she told him about how she had been doing.

* * *

After breakfast, he knotted the green scarf he had gotten for Christmas around his neck and then apparated to Diagon Alley. It was a chilly morning and the snow was thick on the ground as he walked. The wind whispered in his ears as it floated by, carrying tendrils of snow with it. The snow crunched under his feet as he walked, his grey eyes flitting about leisurely. He slipped a hand into his pocket and felt a folded piece of parchment there. He took it put of his pocket and unfolded it. It was well worn, with bars and musical notes handwritten neatly on the parchment. He had written a lot in his free time and he could already hear what it would sound like. Folding it back carefully, he slipped it back into his pocket.

It seemed so peaceful, just walking. He had all the time in the world and there were endless possibilities of what to do. Large shop signs popped out at him, hanging from poles attached to walls, done in fancy lettering and different colours. His grey eyes flitted around and darted to a familiar sign. He stopped abruptly in his steps and pushed open the door. The tinkle of a bell sounded as he entered the cheerful ice cream parlour.

* * *

Diagon Alley had hardly anyone around, surprisingly. But of course, it was boxing day. Hermione walked along the street, humming a soft tune to herself. There was hardly any sunlight at all and the sky was grey and gloomy but that didn't let her spirits down. Strangely, she had been in a good mood since she had awoken that morning and she hadn't a clue why. The fake flowers in the vase in the living room had seemed redder and brighter and she had even stopped to say good morning to the grumbly old postman. Perhaps it was because she had slept well last night or maybe it was because she had read a fascinating book the other day.

She smiled and looked around at the many stores, which one to visit first? Perhaps Flourish and Blotts, where she could browse the shelves, or Honeydukes where she needed to get some toothflossing stringmints for her mother. She opted for the latter and slipped into the colourful shop. After purchasing the stringmints, she stepped out. The glacial air stung her skin as she emerged from the warm and cozy shop. She begun to walk, with no particular destination in mind.

A beautiful melody floated over to her and she stopped in her tracks. It sounded like something he would play... She looked to her left, it was coming from Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. She pulled open the door and stepped inside. Surely enough, the music was louder in here. She spotted the familiar head of blond and smiled. He sat at the antique piano in the corner.

She made her way over to him and he did not notice her for his back was turned to her. His long fingers seemed to glide effortlessly over the keys as he played with confidence. She stepped closer until she was directly behind him. She was sure that he had heard her approaching footsteps, but yet, he did not turn. She reached in front of him from either sides and closed her hands around his eyes. But still, he continued to play. She felt his brows furrow in confusion.

"Guess who?" she whispered in his ear, a smile playing at her lips. There was silence from him, as if he were deep in thought.

"Hermione."

* * *

His eyes widened as her hands slipped off his eyes. He stood and turned to face her and it really was her. He couldn't help himself as a grin spread over his face. She smiled back and then, without thought, flung herself at him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she burrowed her neck in the crook between his neck and shoulder. He closed his eyes as he gently placed his hands in the spot between her shoulder blades. Her curls brushed his face lightly, feeling ticklish. She pulled apart from him and met his steely gaze with an idiotic grin. His mouth twitched, a dimple forming.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as they stepped apart from each other.

"I went out for a stroll actually and Mister Fortescue was kind enough to allow me to play his piano," he said with a hint of playfulness in his voice. He glanced at the clock before looking back at her.

"How about you?"

"Oh, nothing much. I was just doing some shopping," she said nonchalantly.

"Are you free for the rest of the day?" he asked.

"Um, yes, I think so."

"I was contemplating a visit to Ireland earlier this morning. Would you care to join me?" (And that is why I'm jealous of the ability to apparate.)

Hermione went over the things she had to do and she found none. It was a free day for her and she didn't see why not she join him on his mad escapade to another country. "Okay."

He grinned.

"Brilliant, let's go."

* * *

_Belfast, Ireland_

"Give me one good reason why I should eat ice cream when it's freezing," he said, contemplating the colourful ice cream shop.

"'Cause ice cream tastes good," she said simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And one bad reason."

"'Cause you'd be barmy if you did."

"I think I went mad a long time ago. So vanilla or chocolate?"

"Strawberry."

"I like chocolate," his mouth quirked up slightly as they walked towards the shop, their boots leaving imprints in the snow.

* * *

Trees loomed over them and the wind softly whispered in their ears. The snow made audible noises under their boots as they strolled along the worn path. He looked up to meet her gaze when she glanced over at him and smiled. Draco smiled back nervously, he wasn't sure what to think anymore. His feelings for Hermione weren't all that platonic anymore and he didn't know how he felt. She was lovely and he liked...well, everything about her.

Perhaps it was something in the warm depths of her brown eyes or how her smile always left him speechless. Or maybe it was her kind nature that drew him to her. She was different and he had honestly never met someone like her. His eyes flicked to her and he couldn't help but look a little longer than was necessary.

Hermione seemed preoccupied with counting her footsteps, her shoes sinking a little into the snow every time she took a step. She had let her hair down, her unruly locks splayed over her shoulders. She looked as if deep in thought and he knew that look. It was when she would start biting her lip and her eyes would flit around, and that what she was doing now.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked. This made her look up at him and she shrugged.

"Nothing much," she said before taking a good look at their surroundings. "I''ve never been to Ireland before but I've read about it."

"Of course you have," he said in a good-natured way, rolling his eyes. She punched him lightly in the arm and he pretended to wince, reaching to rub the his arm, "Ow, you've mauled my hand!"

"Shut up," she laughed and took his hand in hers. This time, when she did, he showed no surprise but squeezed her hand momentarily. She sighed, a puff of white escaping her lips. They walked on in silence, only broken by a soft tune that she hummed under her breath.

He noticed that they had both forgotten to wear gloves and holding hands had returned some warmth to his cold right hand. She seemed to think the same thing for she glanced down at their hands and smiled.

"Draco?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Lovely weather, don't you think?"

"Oh yes indeed. I have, in fact, predicted that tomorrow will bring more of this so called lovely weather," he said, a smile playing at his lips as they glanced at each other almost shyly.

His gaze flicked to a leaf that somehow managed to get itself tangled into her tresses and he wondered how it had gotten there, seeing as the trees had finished shedding theirs. He stopped her walking by gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

"You've got a leaf in your hair," he murmured. She looked at him curiously as he focused on getting it out from the tousled mess that was her hair. He carefully plucked it out from between her locks and let it drift away from his hand, allowing the wind to carry it away. Their eyes met and he smiled at her nervously. He hadn't noticed that they had gotten so close that their faces were mere inches apart.

Her eyes were of a honey brown with flecks of gold in them and he could see his reflection in them. He found himself glancing down at her lips before his gaze flicked back to her eyes. She leaned forward slightly and his eyelids fluttered to a close. He felt her lips on his jawbone, placing a kiss there before moving to his cheekbone and placing another there. Her lips were warm on his skin, leaving behind the lingering feel of her touch. Her breath ghosted across his pale skin, sending jolts of electricity up his spine.

His mind had gone completely blank.

He gasped as he felt her lips warm on his eyelid. It was so brief, he almost wasn't sure if it had been there at all. And then her lips pressed to the corner beside his mouth.

"Thank you," she whispered and he opened his eyes a crack. Draco had a feeling that Hermione wasn't just thanking him for brushing the leaf out of her hair but for everything else they had shared. Her kisses had left him light headed and he could not think properly.

Draco met her eyes briefly before they flickered to her lips. Hermione hadn't stepped back, her lips hovering over the corner of his mouth. Her breath escaped her lips in puffs of white and their mouths were so close, he could taste her.

I want to kiss her, he thought.

Then, without a second thought, he moved his head and captured her lips with his. There was an annoying voice at the back of his mind that told him that this was wrong, that he was betraying all the things he had been taught as a child and that she was muggle-born. He pushed that voice to the back of his mind. He wanted to kiss her and all that prejudice had crumbled away the moment his lips mets hers

_Sweet Merlin_, he thought with a groan.

She tasted like strawberries and he wondered if it was because of the ice cream they had spontaneously bought earlier. Her lips felt incredibly soft against his and he felt himself give into the temptation to thread his fingers through her hair. He took her bottom lip between her own and wrapped his hands around her waist. She made a soft noise at the back of her throat and her hands cupped both side of his face, pulling him closer.

He knew this was a bad idea. But it felt to good to care. Bloody hell, he was kissing Hermione Granger. He broke apart from her, his breath ragged and erratic.

"I-I...I'm sorry for that. I don't know what I was thinking...I—"

"Draco Malfoy, shut up," she said and before he could reply, her lips met hers. He kissed her like a man deprived of air. And she kissed him back.

* * *

**Author's Note**

I hope you guys liked that and I apologise for the late update. Also, many thanks to my reviewers and to my beta, When In Doubt, Smile.

To tell you the truth, I took quite a while to write this chapter because of exams and a case of Writer's block. I made many drafts and had to delete and rewrite quite a few scenes because I felt like everything I wrote was just not good enough for you guys. But finally, I finished it after tons of work.

Spring break ends in two days and I have to go back to school. I'll try my best to finish the next chapter soon and have it posted. Do leave a review and tell me what you thought of the chapter :)

_- Silver Chessboards_


	9. Serendipity

**The Two Musicians**

_Chapter 9: Serendipity_

_By Silver Chessboards_

* * *

His grey eyes were pools of silver that stared into her depts. They said that the eyes were the windows to the soul but she couldn't tell what he was thinking even when his gaze was so intense. Her eyes roamed the contours of his face and over the sharp angles of his jaw. The high bridge of his nose and gentle rise of his forehead. His skin looked incredibly smooth and pale, like porcelain. His eyes flickered down to her lips and then back to her eyes, it happened so quickly that she almost didn't see it.

She had no idea what she was doing when she leant forward and pressed her lips on his jaw. His eyes fluttered to a close and she wondered what he was thinking of. She had just felt the sudden urge to do that. She could not thank him enough for all the times he had helped her. She had always been one for words but he had once told her that actions spoke louder than words. Sometimes, words were simply not enough. Her mouth moved to his cheek and she placed a kiss on the bone there that protruded out of his skin. His breathing noticably quickened.

But really though, what exactly was she doing?

A gasp escaped his lips when she kissed his eyelid.

They were just platonic kisses after all, weren't they?

There was a queasy feeling in her stomach, she wasn't so sure any more. What if he took this the wrong way?

She hesitated when her lips hovered over the corner of his mouth for a moment, and then her lips met his skin for a last time before she pulled away.

"Thank you," she whispered softly. His eyelids cracked open and she met his half lidded gaze. His grey eyes shone like silver by the light of the day and his cheeks were brightly rouged with cold; he looked almost intoxicated. She swore the world froze for a moment when his head turned slightly and his lips captured hers.

His lips were supple and soft against hers, he tasted faintly of mint and chocolate. She felt a sense of exhilaration rush through her, starting from her chest and spreading out to her toes. Her hand gently caressed his cheek and his fingers had somehow found it's way into her mess of chestnut locks. She gasped in surprise when he gently sucked her bottom lip and then nipped at it playfully.

She had never thought that she'd ever kiss Draco Malfoy. The thought of kissing him had crossed her mind once before but had been quickly erased from mind as soon as it had appeared. Her mind had gone blissfully blank and all she could concentrate on was the soft caress of his lips and the silky blond locks between her fingers.

His nose bumped against hers and she winced, he and his pointy face. Pulling her lips apart from his, she gently pushed him away. Her lips felt like they were on fire, the heat throbbing but slowly beginning to fade with the cold. Their breaths mingled in the winter air, white wisps of nothingness.

She felt lovely and warm, a giddy feeling of happiness she couldn't recall experiencing before but it wasn't a bad feeling. She had never felt like this when she had been with Ron. Being with him had never felt right, it had almost been like something that was expected of them. She had never really thought about it when she started dating him, it had seemed like the sensible thing to do at the time since she had known him for years. War was a constant thing on their minds, what with being always in the run. She loved Ron, she really did, but not romantically.

She had never been the sort of person to go head first into a reckless relationship without thinking it over first. But there was something between her and Draco that made her feel oddly content, like a spark of sorts.

His embrace was warm, promising safety in its confines. There was a certain gentleness in his voice that she found she liked and a merry glint in his eye that she was never quite sure of. He made her feel appreciated and she liked that. He was intelligent and conversations with him were always erratic and witty. He had changed so much that it was hard to believe that this was the same boy who used call her names. She didn't want to get into another meaningless relationship but with Draco, maybe...

Just maybe.

"I-I...I'm sorry for that. I don't know what I was thinking...I—"

"Draco Malfoy, shut up."

And then she kissed him.

He felt like he was floating. His day was going better than he had predicted possible. He felt all warm and fuzzy, like a Hufflepuff who had just received their fist kiss. If this was how it felt like to kiss Hermione Granger he really wouldn't mind kissing her all time. He grinned roguishly at her when he pulled apart. Her hair was messier and her lips looked a shade darker. Her cheeks were flushed; from the cold or from kissing him, he couldn't tell but he hoped it was the latter.

There was a moment's of silence where she looked at him with her brown eyes, nervously biting her lip in that endearing way of hers. He pulled her into an embrace on a strong impulse, his arms wrapping around her waist. She felt warm pressed up against his torso and her hair smelled like apples. His eyes fluttered to a close and he wondered if he was merely dreaming but if it really were a dream, he hoped that it wouldn't end too fast.

He had kissed Hermione Granger and it was such a lovely day, although really his ears were numb from the cold and he thought that being outside in such weather was insanity.

"Draco, I-I don't know if I want to...get into another relationship after what happened with Ron so...let's take this slow, alright?"

He hummed his agreement. He didn't mind at all.

* * *

Her breath fogged up the smooth surface of the glass window. It was raining outside and dreadfully cold. All throughout the day, there had been a draught in the castle, which caused goosebumps to rise on her skin. Most of the snow would probably be washed away by the heavy pour. She would miss the snow when it was gone but with it's departure would come spring and the promise of new things to come. The porcelain mug she held in her ink stained hands warmed her palms, the scent of lavender infused tea washing a wave of calmness over her.

She felt his presence behind her, heat radiating off the warmth of his body. His alabaster arms wrapped around her and she felt him press himself against her back. She leaned into him and sighed when his chin came to rest on her neck. They stood like that for a moment, no words were exchanged but she felt comfortable with the silence.

They hadn't kissed since that fine winter day in Ireland, a week ago. There was, of course, the occasional kiss on the cheek and sometimes he would thread their fingers together. He had taken a rather affectionate habit to randomly placing chaste kisses at places such as her jaw, the tip of her nose, the corner of her mouth and her eyelid. This, she found rather endearing.

She giggled softly when he kissed the spot where her jaw met her neck; it tickled. She felt his lips curve up slightly in amusement against her skin. He loosened her grip on her teacup by gently prying her fingers away and then took the drink away.

"Mmm," he hummed in appreciation after a sip of the warm drink. "Earl Grey, my favourite. Two sugars, no milk; am I right?"

He kissed her cheekbone and she turned around in his arms to face him. She lightly punched him in the shoulder and he grunted. There was a mischievous glint in his eye and he took another sip, she suspected, to provoke her.

"Thief," she said menacingly, but in a light and playful tone.

"Slytherin," he answered and smirked at her. She smiled back and slid her hands through his blond hair, messing it up deliberately. His locks felt like silk between her fingers, incredibly soft and still damp from a morning shower. She wondered why was it that he had such tame hair whilst hers looked like a rat's nest. It simply wasn't fair. She smirked and then raised herself on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his mouth.

She heard him gasp and then he tentatively moved his lips against hers. Her eyes fluttered to a close as his arm around her tightened, his other hand holding the mug. His tongue traced a path across the length of her bottom lip. She opened her eyes to see that he had closed his. Slowly, without him noticing she took her mug from his hand and pulled apart, a mischievous glint in her eye.

His grey eyes snapped open and his eyebrow shot up. "I think I'm rubbing off on you."

"I can't help myself, it's the bad influence," she laughed. He kissed her forehead and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, a smirk plastered to his face. She blushed crimson.

* * *

Most of the snow had melted and spring was creeping its way back into the world. Albeit the snow had gone, it's coldness lingered in the air. She pushed open the large main entrance doors and stepped out. The cold air hit her instantly, a sharp contrast to the warmth the castle offered. As she made her way across the grounds, the sun painted the sky with its colours. She clutched a book in her hand, it's pages yellowed from age. She was not far from the oak tree when she heard her name shouted out.

There was a bright flash of red making it's way towards her and instantly she knew who it was. Her eyes softened, she missed Ron. The Gryffindor common room seemed empty without his jokes. She had long since forgiven him although he didn't know that. He seemed genuinely happy with Lavender and that was good enough for her. Deep down, she had known that things would never have worked out between the both of them. They were too different.

The redhead came to an abrupt halt in front of her, panting from running all the way across the school grounds. He met her eyes with his blue ones and gave her a sheepish smile that made her heart ache. She missed him.

"Ron..." she trailed off, and an awkward silence wedged itself between them.

"I-I...Hermione, I think we need to um...talk," he begun. She nodded and he continued.

"Look, I—I don't even know where to start honestly...I'm just so sorry," he said, looking genuinely sorry. "I've missed you, Hermione, and sometimes I wish that I could take back what I did. I know I'm a terrible friend and I understand if you—"

He was cut off when she threw her arms around him in an embrace.

"Oh Ron," she sobbed.

* * *

"Please Hermione!" Harry and Ron said in unison, clutching the hem of her black robes as they knelt on the red carpet of the Gryffindor Common Room.

She had to suppress a giggle at their pathetic expressions, "No."

"But—"

"If I do all your homework for you, you'll never learn!"

"Oh, Hermione," Ron huffed. "We don't know how to do it."

"Yes and besides, aren't best friends supposed to help each other out?" Harry added.

She sighed, "Fine, I'll help you but—"

Harry and Ron broke out into cheers, cutting her off and hi fived each other. Their cries of happiness were cut off by a glare.

"But," she continued, "I'll only help, you won't get to copy from me."

Ron scowled at her while Harry looked disappointed.

"Oh Hermione, could you help me with that Potions essay as well? You see Dean and I—"

"Alright," she sighed and picked up her quill.

* * *

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" was his innocent reply. She turned to him with a scowl on her face. Draco smirked at her, trying to contain his amusement. She was annoyed by the smallest of things.

"Tapping your fingers. I can't concentrate," she huffed and turned back to the scattered pile of books surrounding her. He lifted an eyebrow at her troubled expression. A sigh escaped her lips and she threw her quill down onto the table. The silence in the music room was pierced by another sigh.

"What's wrong?" he furrowed his brows and peered at her scroll of parchment."

"I just can't understand this question! I've done all the calculations but I can't seem to get it right!" she gritted her teeth in annoyance and met his eyes with an undisguised fury. He chuckled and her anger flared.

"What's so funny?" she demanded, fixing him with a glare.

"Nothing, I'll help you," he said quickly before taking a pencil to note down several things on a piece of parchment. "Well you see, you've confused yourself at this part here..."

* * *

"I've got it! Thank you so much Draco!" she said and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He flushed, his cheeks filling with colour. He was suddenly all warm and tingly. I don't think I'll ever get used to that, he thought.

Later when the sky had darkened and the grandfather clock rang out eleven times, she had promptly fallen asleep. He carried her to the bed in the music room and slipped her under the covers, careful not to rouse her. He had made his way half way across the music room to the door when she whispered something so soft he almost didn't catch it.

"Stay."

* * *

It was two in the morning when he awoke all of a sudden. He yawned, his back ached terribly from spending hours sleeping in the stiff armchair. His eyes softened when they landed on her. She was fast asleep, her hand still in his. She had insisted upon holding his hand until sleep took her and her grip had loosened. He contemplated going back to his dorms but it wouldn't be nice when she found out in the morning that he had abandoned her.

Her eyes opened slowly and he stifled his laughter at her drowsiness. Her hair was an absolute mess and she looked as if she had been interrupted from something terribly important, a confused expression on her face. She caught his eyes and her brown ones moved to his armchair and a slight furrow came between her brows.

"That must be terribly uncomfortable," she said simply, her mind still affected by sleep. She yawned when he nodded his agreement.

"Why don't you join me here?" she said drowsily, patting the spot beside her head. "There's plenty of space and I'm sure you won't flatten me in my sleep with your oversized ego."

He suppressed his laughter, sleepy Hermione Granger was a funny sight. She tugged on his hand lightly before closing her eyes and rolling over on her side. He lifted an eyebrow but said nothing as he climbed into bed beside her. She slipped her hand into his and soon he fell asleep.

* * *

He could smell apples, sweet like honey and with a hint of cinnamon to it. I know that scent, he thought groggily. His bones felt like lead and the sensible part of his mind told him to go back to sleep. Sleep claimed him not moments later and he fell asleep to the lull of deep breathing.

It was not until later when he awoke that he realised that the apple scent hadn't just been a figment of his imagination. His eyes opened and he found himself looking at the object of his fancy. She was awake, those brown eyes he adored half opened. She gave him a lazy smile and he felt his heart skip a beat. He felt like a ten-year-old who just found out that their crush liked them back, which really was a lovely feeling. He smiled back sleepily.

"Am I dreaming?" he whispered to her and she raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know; are you?"

"I don't know, that's why I asked you."

"Maybe you aren't."

"Good, I hope this isn't a dream," he said and yawned.

A comfortable silence reigned between them. He was content to just lie there with her. His eyes traced her features, moving from her angelic face to her incredibly messy hair. A small smile graced his mouth and he reached out to tug gently on a lock. She raised an eyebrow and he grinned sheepishly. Her dainty hand reached up and she deliberately mussed up his blond hair.

"There, you look lovely," she said, giving him a triumphant smile. He pretended to be horrified and she giggled, her brown eyes shining with delight.

"You messed up my hair," he said breathily and then rolled over, pinning her down under him. She laughed and reached her hand up to his hair again but he caught her small wrist, pinning it down next to her head. A small smile spread across his face and he dipped his head to brush a fleeting kiss over her lips. Her breathing noticeably quicken and she tried to remove herself from his grasp but he held her down with his weight.

"Oh, no, you don't," he chided her. "After all, I'm just returning the favour."

She blushed and he gave her a wolfish grin before he kissed her again. This time it was slow and he playfully nipped her bottom lip, giving it a gentle tug when he pulled away. Her neck and cheeks were flushed now, he noticed. He left several kisses along the length of her jaw and gently nibbled the spot under her ear, which made her squirm, in a good way.

His mouth went to her neck and he placed several more kisses there, making sure to bite enough to leave a blatant mark. He examined his handiwork and grinned. He seemed to have some affect on her because she was breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed.

"You're evil," she breathed, trying to glare at him but failing. He planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Slytherin, love," he replied and collapsed beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her breathing eventually evened out to match his and he found himself being lulled once again into sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note**

Do review and tell me what you thought of the chapter. The next update may take a while because I have my exams in two weeks so I'm dreadfully sorry for that. Thank you for reading :)

- Silver Chessboards


	10. The Words in his Heart

**The Two Musicians**

_Chapter 10: The Words in his Heart_

_By Silver Chessboards_

* * *

"Hermione, you do know that you'll have to eventually tell him, don't you?"

She froze, her hand hovering in mid air, her fingertips lightly brushing the spine of the book she had been reaching for. She sighed and then removed the dusty book from the shelf before turning to face her bthat friend. There was a seriousness in his green eyes that startled her. She had not seen that look on his face since the war. She frowned at his vague question.

"Tell who?"

"Ron, about you and Malfoy."

"I—oh, I don't know Harry. I want to tell him, but I don't at the same time." The helplessness in her voice was evident. She hadn't a clue of how to tell Ron about her relationship with Draco. He would take it badly, she knew. Guilt consumed her every time she lied about a visit to the library. Ron would shrug and continue playing chess with Harry but the dark haired boy would sigh and give her a knowing look.

Harry's eyes softened and he said, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I really shouldn't be pressuring you into doing anything you—"

"It's not your fault, Harry. I'll tell him, but just not now alright?"

She just needed more time to pluck up the courage to tell him.

Yes, more time.

"Okay."

* * *

His footsteps made soft clicks on the floor as he walked over to the piano and seated himself. He lifted the wooden lid of the piano and brushed his fingertips over the ivory. He closed his eyes as a melody flowed out from his fingertips and onto the keys. This was a song that he had played many times as a child. It reminded him of golden days spent in the West Wing of the manor with his mother.

The dulcet tones of the piano echoed across the room. His long fingers stretched and moved gracefully over the keys, every move precise and perfect. His foot pressed the wooden pedal at the foot of the pianoforte, prolonging the clear, overlapping sounds. The last note died softly, leaving silence in it's stead. A deep sigh escaped him, and he closed his eyes.

He reached for a large black notebook beside him and opened it, its spine making a crackling noise. He flipped it open to a particular page and he scanned it with his eyes. He had transferred his composition into the notebook with a handy charm he had found in a dusty library book. Many pages had been inked in with horizontal lines and notes, some messily written and others precise and neat.

He was almost done.

A rare smile graced his features.

* * *

It was a cold morning when Hermione Granger first realised that she was falling in love with Draco Malfoy. They had been sat in the library with a comfortable silence between them. The castle had been almost empty as most of the students had gone to Hogsmeade.

Her quill made scratching noises as she moved her hand across the parchment. She paused, staring hard at a note. The parchment was filled with messy scrawls of notes, bars and ink smudges in several spots. The few sheets of parchment laid out in front of her were the work of a few months. She had not written many compositions and she wasn't very good at it but the one she was working on was definitely the best she had ever written. She had never felt so inspired before. She glanced up from her parchment to look at the blond sat across from her.

He was deeply absorbed in his book, his grey eyes flickering over the page. His blond hair fell over his eyes in a carelessly tousled manner and he was trying hard to suppress a smile. She felt the corners of her mouth turn upwards, his happiness was oddly contagious.

"What book are you reading?" she asked. He glanced up at her, his eyes lit with mirth and excitement.

"The Foolish Knight by Edward Hamington, it's hilarious honestly," he replied and grinned at her, showing her his pearly whites. His grey eyes shone with delight and she found herself holding her breath. His blond hair caught the light when he turned back to his book and she found herself exhaling shakily.

When he smiled at you, it felt like the ground had been pulled out from beneath your feet. It was frightening how his smile could unnerve her so. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest and hoped he couldn't hear it too.

"Are you feeling alright?" she looked up from her parchment to find him staring at her intently. His grey eyes met hers and she felt herself flush at the intensity of his gaze. She nodded, giving him a weak smile and he reached out a hand to feel her forehead.

"Are you sure, Hermione? You look a little flushed," the way he said her name made her heart skip a beat. His touch was cool against her skin and his voice surprisingly gentle.

"I-I don't think I'm feeling very well," she said, feeling very warm all of a sudden. She should get out of the library, away from him, yes that was a good idea. She stood and began to keep her writing materials away.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he frowned and stood.

"Oh, no—it's fine." she said softly, grabbing her satchel. He stood watching her and sighed, nodding.

"Okay," he said and sat back down. She smiled at him and then kissed him chastely on the lips before disappearing. Her lips tingled with warmth where it had brushed against his. As she walked out of the library, she unconsciously lifted a hand to her lips where she could still taste his minty breath.

She avoided him for a week after that morning in the library. She knew it was wrong of her to so suddenly ignore him and pretend he didn't exist but she couldn't help herself. It was too hard to face him so she didn't. She had never been in love before and the fleeting notions of being in love had only ever happened to her when she read a Jane Austen novel. Love to her, had always been the stuff of romance books and cheesy movies. Whenever she was around Draco, her thoughts would be a jumbled mess. She couldn't think properly enough to sort out the things in her mind and that was something that had never happened to her. She had never thought it would feel like this.

She needed time to think about it and to accept the fact that she was in love. Something that she thought would never happen to her. She had half expected to die with ten cats and a house filled with books. Draco didn't deserve the treatment he was receiving from her and she felt bad for doing so. She had written a letter to her mother, asking her about how she knew when she first fell in love with her father. The letter she received from the older woman was helpful, and she had also sent an unused journal along with it. In the letter, her mother told her to write out her feelings into the leather bound notebook for it would help her sort them out.

The next time she talked to Draco was when she happened to bump into him on the astronomy tower. She visited to have a brief talk with Professor Sinistra and had made her way down half of the lengthy staircase when she came across him. He reached out a hand to steady her when she stumbled. Her eyes met his and she momentarily forgot how to breathe. His gaze were penetrating and she had always felt like if she looked into then for too long, she would get lost.

She quickly averted her gaze to her books, which had slipped, from her grasp and onto the stone steps. She bent down to retrieve one of them and he helped pick up the other two. She bit her lip nervously, eyeing him. He looked terrible, she thought. His hair was as silky and blond as it had ever been but he looked thinner, like he hadn't been eating properly. There were noticeable bags under his stormy grey eyes. Was he sleeping well? She banished thoughts of his well being from her mind when she noticed how his eyes lowered to her lips for a split second before moving back to her face.

He passed her books to her and she took them, their fingers brushed against each other. There was a tingle of electricity but it happened so fast she wondered if it really had been there.

"Thank you," she mumbled and tried to move past him but he gently took her elbow, stopping her. She stopped and turned to face him, feeling rather guilty. She had been avoiding him for the past week and it was obviously confusing him to no end. She did not meet his gaze, feeling it boring into her. A shiver went up her spine when he raised a hand to rest it on the wall beside her head. She knew she wouldn't be allowed to leave without talking to him. He was so close she could feel his breath ghosting across her skin, raising goosebumps.

"Hermione," he said and she glanced at him before averting her gaze once more. She felt terrible to have avoided him without giving him an explanation. He gently cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face towards him. She avoided his steely gaze by concentrating on a spot behind him.

"Look at me," his voice was so soft she almost didn't hear him. Her gaze flickered to his before darting away. She couldn't.

"Please Hermione," he whispered, pleading. She silently accepted her inevitable fate and met his eyes. They were a familiar shade of grey and silver and she lost herself in them for a moment. Her eyes moved to the sharp angles of his face, from his chiseled jaw to the high bridge of his nose. His lips were a pale shell pink and cracked from the cold.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he asked, his voice pained. Her heart clenched at the tone of his voice, he sounded frustrated and confused.

"I needed time to think, Draco," her voice was raspy.

"About what?"

"Draco Malfoy," she paused and took a deep breath. It was inevitable, she knew. He would know eventually so there was no point in prolonging it. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

* * *

She had been avoiding him for the past week. It had started after that Saturday morning they had spent together in the library. He had first noticed her odd behaviour when she refused to look at him when they past each other in crowded hallways. This was odd as in the past whenever they happened to cross paths, their eyes would briefly meet and she would flash him a small smile.

She had stopped her visits to the lake as well as their music room, so his evenings were spent by the dim fire of the Slytherin common room, writing furiously in his journal and wondering if she would come around soon. She was odd, he thought. Things had been fine between them he found her sudden change of behaviour confusing. Was it something he did? Or perhaps something he said.

He had tried confronting her about it a few times but to no avail. He had a few classes with her but whenever the bell rang, signaling the next lesson, she would always be the first out of class. It was maddening, the way she was behaving and it confused him to no end. Another three days past and he found himself sat in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room, staring at the flickering warmth. The grandfather clock rang out twelve times, breaking the silence in the empty room. He heard footsteps stumbling down the stairs and did not acknowledge the presence of another until he felt the couch sag further underneath him with the weight of someone else.

"What is it Blaise?" he heard himself ask, not turning to look at the Italian.

"I couldn't sleep."

"How lovely," he mumbled before cracking open the spine of the journal on his lap. He turned to a fresh page and begun to write. He poured his feelings into the parchment with ink and the words in his heart. He wrote about her, it was all about her. When he finally looked up, it was when Blaise asked him a question and the clock's shorter hand had reached one.

"Who is it, Draco?"

The question rang through his head and he understood perfectly what Blaise was asking him but he feigned ignorance.

"Would you care to elaborate?" he said, shutting his journal with a snap.

"Don't play dumb, Draco. I know you well enough to know that there's a girl, so who is it? Or is it a bloke?" Blaise smirked and the blond scowled back.

"It's none of your ruddy business and you'd do well to keep out of it," he said coldly before he stood to head to his dorms. Later on he would regret being so callous to his friend but he would remind himself that regretting it would change nothing. It was a day later before he finally spoke to Hermione again.

It was a draughty day in the castle and he had been heading up the astronomy tower when he bumped into her. He reached out a hand to steady her when she stumbled. Her hair was windswept, messy but he found it endearingly so. Her eyes were wide with surprise when they met his and she tore her gaze away from his when her books tumbled down the steps. She bent down to pick up a blue leather bound volume and he collected the other two for her. As he stood, she glanced at him nervously and bit her lip. His eyes flickered to her lips briefly before he handed her books to her. Their fingers brushed for a moment and he felt a brief tingle of electricity at her touch.

She hugged the books to her chest and averted her eyes from him before mumbling a brief thank you. She moved past him and tried to make a quick escape but he stopped her by quickly grabbing her elbow. She stopped in her tracks before turning to face him, refusing to meet his gaze. She visibly flinched when he raised a hand to rest it on the wall, next to her head. He hadn't had the chance to properly talk to her and was determined not to allow her to leave too soon. She was nervous, he could tell and she was looking anywhere but at him.

"Hermione," he said and her eyes flickered to him before darting to a spot behind him. He was so close he could count the freckles spattered across the bridge of her nose and see the flecks of golden in her brown eyes. She was flushed, probably from the strong wind up in the astronomy tower. She seemed almost shy of him. He gently cupped her chin in his hand and turned her face towards him.

"Look at me," he whispered and her eyes met his for brief moment before moving away. When he spoke again, his tone was softer, almost pleading.

"Please Hermione."

This time she did, and his breath caught in his throat. No matter how many times he had looked into her eyes, he would never be able to memorise their beauty. They were a warm shade of brown but with a certain sadness in them that he could not understand.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" his voice sounded pained. She averted her eyes and he did not stop her.

"I needed time to think, Draco."

"About what?"

There was a moment of silence after he spoke.

"Draco Malfoy," she took a deep breath. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

It was abstruse and abrupt but beautiful at the same time. He stopped breathing for a moment and his heartbeat quickened to a staccato. No one had ever loved him before but his mother and even then, he did not know what love was. He had heard of it, in the hushed whispers of young girls and the Shakespeare books that Blaise kept hidden under his bed. It was supposed to be the quickening of a heartbeat, the tingle of electricity on skin and the butterflies in the stomach caused by the one you loved.

Hermione Granger loved him.

"What?" he heard himself ask her. She shook her head and turned to leave but he stopped her before she could. They stood in silence before he broke it.

"If you want time, I'll give you time," he said and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her lips. Her lips felt soft and supple against his but he pulled away before he could savour the taste of her lips. She stared into his eyes for a moment before moving past him and making her way down the stairs. He closed his eyes and slumped against the sturdy wall of the tower.

He had never been a very patient person.

* * *

Another week passed in the same manner. She would occasionally glance at him and blush when he met her eyes. This reassured him, at least she wasn't completely ignoring him. Nights spent by the fire in the Slytherin common room with Blaise became comfortable. He had taken to talking to the Italian and conversations between them never broached subjects that Draco was particularly uneasy discussing with his friend.

But one evening, they did. Or at least, Draco did.

"What is love?" he mused, lost in thought.

"Have you ever been in love?" Blaise asked. It was such a simple question but one that Draco could not think of an answer to. Was what he had with Hermione something you could call love?

"How can I answer your question if I know not what love is?" he replied, amused at the turn their conversation was taking.

"Love, my friend, is a beautiful thing. If you love someone, you would be willing to give up everything for them. If you love someone, your mind would flood with thoughts of them and whenever you were around them, your stomach would fill with butterflies. The briefest touch from a lover would cause your heart to pound and..." Blaise continued talking excitedly, he was Italian and a romantic at heart. But Draco had heard enough. His eyes widened in realization.

"Merlin, Blaise," Draco said abruptly, cutting his friend off.

"What is it, Draco?"

"I think I'm in love," he said and fell back, slumping dejectedly. He hadn't a clue how long it would take Hermione to get over the fact that she was in love, with him no less. He felt the corners of his mouth lift and soon he was grinning like a fool. Hermione was in love with him. Draco sat up straight, his thought racing and clouding his mind. She didn't know that he loved her. He made up his mind to go and tell her immediately but when he glanced at the clock, he realised that it was past midnight and that she was probably asleep. He sighed and turned to his friend who was staring at him quizzically.

"Well?"

"What?" the blond raised an eyebrow.

"I never thought I'd see the day that you fell in love," the Italian grinned.

"Shut up," the blond said with no malice, unable to refrain from smiling. He threw a pillow at Blaise, which hit him in the face.

He stayed up late that night, writing in his journal and continuing his composition. Blaise had long gone to bed and only when the embers of the fire die out did he retreat to his dorms. His last thought was of her as he fell into a peaceful sleep.

Hermione Granger loved him.

* * *

**Author's Note**

I love my beta, I honestly don't know what I'd do without her. Reviews make me happy and make me type faster (I'm wondering if I can get twenty reviews for this chapter but that probably won't happen so never you mind). Thank you so much for reading!

- _Silver Chessboards_


	11. Broken Glass

**The Two Musicians**

_Chapter 11: Broken Glass_

_By Silver Chessboards_

* * *

Morning dawned bright and Draco awoke, feeling better than he had in a week and a half. He planned to tell Hermione that he reciprocated her feelings for him when he got the chance. He had two lessons with her that day, double Potions and Charms. Breakfast came and went and so did his first two lessons. Time seemed to go by slowly when one was anticipating for something to happen. He passed her twice in the hallways and each time he sent her a grin that made her blush. It was a good day and nothing could possibly go wrong.

One o' clock soon came and with it, Potions class. He was five minutes early and took his usual seat in the second row, beside Theo. It was a surprisingly warm afternoon and he had rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and tossed his outer robes over his chair. Slughorn entered the room at two minutes past one with a jolly smile.

"Now, can anybody tell me the uses and properties of Valerian?" he begun in his loud voice, scanning the room for any volunteers. A hand shot up and Draco smirked.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Valerian has sedative and antispasmodic properties and is used in the Draught of Living Death, the Draught of Peace, the Forgetfulness potion and muggle nerve and sleep remedies," she said.

"Very good, Miss Granger, ten points to Gryffindor," Slughorn beamed at her before turning to address the class.

"Turn to page one-hundred-and-ninety-six please, today we shall be brewing a very advanced and concentrated version of a Forgetfulness potion. This is different from what you brewed in your first year so be very careful."

Draco immediately set to heating his cauldron and measuring his ingredients. There was a collective noise around the room as other students did the same. He watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye, noticing how lovely she looked that day. Her long hair had been tied up and her sleeves rolled to her elbows. She carefully chopped her roots, having no idea that she was being watched by a pair of grey eyes. A small dimple formed at the side of her mouth as she allowed

herself a quick smile after finishing chopping her roots.

He tore his gaze away to see that he had accidentally cut his finger with his knife. He cursed and pressed the bleeding cut to the hem of his shirt. Blood stained the fabric and he decided that it'd be a good idea to admire his lover later on.

* * *

Hermione stirred her cauldron seven times anti clockwise with her wooden spoon, watching as the potion thickened considerably. She lowered the heat of the fire and sat back down, leaving the potion to simmer until it changed colour. She had stayed up late last night studying and lack of sleep had certainly taken it's toll on her, she felt absolutely knackered.

Her eyes lazily drifted over the room, landing on Draco. He was carefully cutting up his ingredients, eyes trained on his chopping board. She watched the graceful and fluid movements of his hands as he repeatedly brought his knife down. His fingers were long and delicate, perfect for playing the piano. His eyes moved and found hers, almost as if he had felt her gaze on him.

He smiled at her and she managed a weak smile in return, feeling her cheeks flush. She averted her eyes to glance at the clock on the wall. Her potion had finished simmering and she had to get started on the second half. She reached for the bottle of Lethe river water and propped it on the edge of the cauldron to pour a few drops into the cauldron.

"Hermione, could you—"

The sudden voice broke her concentration and almost all the contents of the vial ended up in her cauldron. She barely had time to register what had happened before darkness overcame her.

A loud explosive noise made Draco look up from his brewing potion. Smoke had spread quickly, obscuring his view. He made his way to the door, trying hard not to inhale the polluted air. Slughorn shouted something incoherent to a student and he caught the words 'hospital wing' and 'injured'. Clear air came rushing back into his lungs when he slipped out of the classroom, coughing and spluttering. Smoke was seeping out of the crack underneath the door, creeping its way around their feet. Dean Thomas emerged from the classroom carrying an unconscious Hermione with Slughorn behind him. His blood ran cold when he saw her limp form. She was covered in what must have been her forgetfulness potion and there was no knowing how much she had ingested.

She was quickly carried away by Thomas whilst Slughorn dismissed the students. The news spread through Hogwarts like wildfire that evening and although he desperately wanted to see Hermione, questions would be roused if he was seen visiting her. And so he waited for dinner to come when everyone else would be all gathered in the Great Hall. Time went by slowly but when seven o' clock came, he abandoned his Transfiguration essay and left the Dungeons.

Draco ran up several flights of stairs, passing by countless bemused portraits. He encountered no one on the way to the hospital wing. When he arrived, he was out of breath from his strenuous run. He slipped into the hospital wing, noting that there were hardly any patients and only three beds had their drapes tightly shut around them. Madam Pomfrey was most likely in the Great Hall with the other teachers, Draco thought as he approached the nearest bed that had a patient. He peered in through the curtain chink and slipped in when he realised that it was Hermione's bed.

Only, she wasn't alone. Potter was there, on the other side of Hermione's bed, eying him warily but without disdain. He nodded curtly at the dark haired boy and took a seat in the stiff chair beside the hospital bed. Weasley had most likely gone down to dinner, Draco swore that boy couldn't think of anything else other than his stomach sometimes. Potter visibly relaxed when he realised that Draco wasn't planning to do anything malicious and lay back in his chair.

"How is she?" Draco asked quietly, his eyes trained on Hermione. She was asleep, unaware of what was going on around her. There were bruises and cuts scattered across her pale skin and she had suffered from a rather nasty burn on her right arm which had been carefully bandaged. He took her hand in his; it felt so cold against the warmth of his skin.

"Not doing very well," Potter replied with a frown. "She woke up a few hours ago and Madam Pomfrey tested her memory with a spell. Apparently, she has forgotten the whole of seventh year."

It felt like someone had dug his heart out of his chest with a knife. He stared at him in shock, at a lost for words.

"You love her don't you?" the boy who lived said softly, with genuine sadness in his eyes. He tried to say something but his mouth had turned to sawdust. He nodded weakly, his eyes trained on the lady he loved.

"I'm sorry."

"It's nothing," Draco said harshly, finding his voice again. He didn't want pity, he didn't think he could handle it.

She had forgotten.

His eyes traced her features, moving over the delicate angles of her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose to her long eyelashes and pale lips. He would always love her, even if she didn't love him back.

"The affects of the Forgetfulness potion aren't permanent," Potter said abruptly, breaking the silence. Draco nodded, finding it slightly easier to breathe, she would remember eventually but he didn't know how long he could wait. It would take perhaps a few months judging from the hefty amount of potion she ingested.

He heard the swishing noise of the curtain being pulled open and an obnoxiously loud voice broke the silence.

"I'm sorry I'm late—Malfoy?" there was disbelief in the Weasley's voice and Draco did not fail to notice the look of disgust he received from the redhead. His blue eyes found Potter's and he stared at him as if he had grown another head.

"What is he doing here?" Weasley spat.

"Look, Ron, sit down and—"

"I don't want to sit down, I want to know why that snake is doing here!" Weasley shouted, turning red.

"Ron—"

"If you really must know, Weasley, I happen to be her boyfriend."

"Wha—I'm not stupid Malfoy, Hermione would never—"

"Ron," Potter interrupted with a glare and stood, placing a hand on his best friend's shoulder.

"This is a joke, isn't it?" the redhead said abruptly and started to laugh. "You're pulling my leg! I can't believe you'd team up with Malfoy to—" his laughter died away when he saw that Harry wasn't laughing with him, but frowning grimly.

"What? Are you telling me that—"

"Malfoy's telling the truth Ron...I just wish she'd told you sooner," Potter said softly, trying to console the stricken boy.

"I-I don't understand," Weasley spluttered. " I thought she hated him, how—"

"We all hated him, but Hermione says he's changed and I believe her."

"But—"

"Ron, stop for a moment and think," Potter said, grabbing the the redhead's shoulders and forcing him to meet his gaze. "These past few months ever since you left Hermione, have you ever seen her so happy?"

Weasley faltered and avoided his friend's gaze, staring at his feet. He mumbled something that went unheard and Potter asked him to repeat it.

"Well, no," he admitted reluctantly.

"Ron, tell me the truth, are you willing to give Hermione that happiness?"

"Yes, I'd do anything but—"

"Then let her be," Potter said softly. "Malfoy makes her happy and he loves her, that's the only thing that matters. He gives her what she deserves and she'd been through a lot."

Weasley flinched at the pointed look Potter gave him at his last words. He cast his eyes down, unable to meet his friend's piercing gaze.

"Alright," he sighed and lifted his eyes to meet Draco's. The redhead seemed to have accepted it all, albeit reluctantly. "I still don't like you and you'll get my respect only when I see that you've earned it."

"Likewise," Draco nodded.

"And if you treat Hermione—"

"Yes, I know," the blond cut him off. Weasley glared at him.

"Malfoy, we'll be leaving now," Potter glanced at the clock on the wall and exited with Weasley behind him. Draco watched as they left, silently thanking Merlin that that was all over. He looked to Hermione who, surprisingly, hadn't awoken throughout the entire exchange.

He eventually dozed off in the hospital chair and woke up the next morning with an uncomfortably stiff back. He rubbed his cheek consciously, there was a sleep mark and he had no doubt that it was red. He looked at his Hermione, still asleep. Her hand was pleasantly warm in his, he noted. He smiled fondly at her, he loved her. Very much so.

"I love you," he whispered to her, tracing whimsical patterns on her back of her hand with his thumb.

At that moment, her eyes fluttered open.

"Why are you here, Malfoy?"

She said his name with blatant dislike and immediately snatched her hand out of his grasp.

It was more painful than he had expected.

He tried to speak, to tell her that she was wrong, to tell her that she loved him but nothing came out. He felt crushed, she had forgotten about him and the bond they had shared. It was nothing to her now. He was nothing to her.

And without sparing her another glance, he stood and left. His bones felt like lead and his mind half registered that he had made his way to the dungeons and into the common room. He sat down in his favourite armchair and stared at the flickering flames which brought him no warmth. It felt terrible, he thought. To know that the one you loved had forgotten. To know that they didn't love you back. He vaguely registered the fact that Blaise was saying something to him.

"Firewhiskey," he managed to croak out softly.

Blaise paused and looked at him sharply before nodding. The evening past by quickly, drowned in burning amber liquid. He said nothing but drank in silence, the only sounds that broke the silence were the crackling of the fire and the sloshing of alcohol into a glass. Blaise only spoke once throughout the whole evening.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly.

"No," came the flat reply from the blond before the downed another glass of Firewhiskey. He wanted to forget. He didn't want to live in a world where his lover didn't remember him.

When the grandfather clock rang out twelve times, the fire died out and the common room was submerged in darkness. For the first time since he was a child, Draco Malfoy cried. His sobs echoed in the silence of the night. The pain in his chest hurt too much to bear. Salty tears streamed down his cheeks in small rivulets and his grip on the glass loosened. It slipped from his grasp and shattered into a million pieces at his feet.

_Like his heart._

* * *

The encounter with Malfoy had Hermione's head spinning with questions. He'd looked genuinely hurt when she asked him his reason for being there and had departed soon after, leaving her in a state of confusion and doubt. Why had he held her hand and what reason did he have to look hurt? He hated her, didn't he? She frowned.

What made everything worst was that she could not remember anything of the last few months. She hated not knowing. She had awoken hours earlier before the incident with Malfoy with her right arm and shoulder covered in angry red burns and a large portion of her memory wiped. She honestly could not remember anything of seventh year no matter how hard she tried grasping at the small fragments of memories in her mind that she could not piece together.

Nothing made sense anymore.

After her discharge from the hospital wing, she had returned to her dorms with the intent of reading (or rereading) her books for seventh year. She had worked her way through five thick volumes already and they had all seemed vaguely familiar, like she had already memorised it before which she had no doubt that she had. She closed her eyes, searching her mind for something she could remember of the last few months. Anything.

She could remember brief flashes of...music sheets, a large room with a piano and...the lake? It was all very strange to her and she decided to visit the library, intent on finding books to help her with her memory loss. She found a few volumes on the subject and stayed up late reading them. The books were very vague on the topic of memory loss, telling the reader more about which potions or spells caused memory loss, things she did not wish to know but she read everything to make sure she wouldn't miss crucial information.

The books did not provide much information on how to regain memory and the little that it did was useless to her. She slammed the last book down on the desk in frustration and fought the urge to scream. She knew that over time she would regain her memories as they had only been temporarily erased but she was never one to sit around and wait for fate to catch up with her. With this thought in mind, she stumbled over to her bed and promptly fell asleep.

Over the next few days, she immersed herself in her books, adamant to relearn everything she had forgotten. She would sometimes catch Ron or Harry shooting her odd looks, as if they were afraid she would collapse any moment. Wherever she went, her peers would whisper about her behind their hands and give her pitying looks, the whole school knew about her memory loss it seemed. It was extremely aggravating and she had already deducted points from all houses and handed out four detentions.

The worst thing was that she hated that she couldn't remember anything that had happened in the past few months. Malfoy kept looking at her and his gaze always made her nervous, but he kept his distance which she was glad for. She didn't know what had happened between them but she knew that it was enough to make him constantly look at her and for him to have been there when she awoke in the hospital wing. It was a warm evening in the Gryffindor common room when she decided to ask questions.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Hermione?" he said, looking up from his homework.

"What happened between Malfoy and I?" she said calmly, shutting her book with a snap and placing it down. She was tired of everything, of not knowing and being treated like she was fragile glass. She hated not knowing.

He cleared his throat, suddenly looking rather nervous, "Why do you ask?"

"He keeps looking at me and he held my hand when I woke up in the hospital wing, I want to know why."

"Well, um...you see, Ron and I have talked about this and we think it's best if—"

"I don't care what you think, I want to know," she said, giving him an exasperated look.

"Malfoy loves you," Harry said bluntly, evidently wanting to get things over with.

"What?" she said in disbelief. Love? With Malfoy? That was ridiculous, she scoffed. "How did that happen?"

Harry proceeded to explain to her of how Ron cheated on her and somehow, a relationship developed between her and Malfoy. In fact, Malfoy seemed to be head over heels for her. She sat there in silence after Harry had finished speaking, shocked at the revelation. She didn't want to believe it, couldn't believe it but one look at Harry told her that he was completely serious.

"He...loves me?" she glanced down at her upturned palm, remembering how it had felt pleasantly warm from his gentle caress in the Hospital Wing.

* * *

Draco missed her. He missed everything about her, from her gentle smile to her brown eyes. He watched her from afar, never approaching or speaking to her. She didn't seem to be getting on very well, judging from the whispers and how Potter and Weasley were treating her. It would take her months to remember her love for him, and how ironic it was that the day he decided to tell her of his reciprocated feelings, she forgot.

He returned to the music room some evenings, to fall asleep in his bed later on with sore ink stained hands and melodies playing in his head. Other evenings would be spent by the fire that brought no warmth, with the company of Blaise and sometimes, if he felt particularly miserable, a bottle of Firewhiskey.

Blaise never asked him, but Draco had the feeling that his friend knew everything. It had been a particularly miserable day for him when he settled down on the soft couch with a familiar bottle. He couldn't be bothered with drinking it out of a glass anymore, it tasted better when it came straight from the bottle. Blaise looked at him with a furrow between his brows, as if trying to solve a tough puzzle.

"What is it Blaise?" he asked. Apparently, he wasn't drunk to the point where his words were incoherent.

"Do you still love her?"

"Who?" he snapped, not wanting to broach the subject but at the same time, wanting to tell the Italian everything.

"Draco, a month ago, you were head over heels in love and now you're just desolate," Blaise frowned. Draco opened his mouth to protest but Blaise silenced him, "You may be able to fool everyone else but I've known you since we were children so it's not use denying it."

Draco glared at him halfheartedly before slumping against the green cushions and taking a swig of his alcohol, "I love her."

"You're pathetic," Blaise said, eyeing the bottle of Firewhiskey with disgust.

"She hates me," he said, ignoring Blaise statement. "What am I going to do?"

"What needs to be done."

Later on, when he was in bed he would ponder those words before falling asleep. The only thing he could do was wait and he hoped that the wait would be worth it. He longed to take her into his arms and kiss her silly and to see her lovely smile again. He awoke the next morning with a dreadful hangover and even after drinking a potion to ease his pains, his bad mood did not leave him. He was snappy and irritable throughout breakfast and his first few lessons.

After Transfiguration class, he stood and left the classroom but he did not get far until he was pulled rather forcefully into a hidden alcove behind a tapestry. The hand that had clamped over his wrist was small and petite and he was about to lash out at the person until he realised who it was. Hermione eyed him with a wary gaze and her mouth was set into a firm line. She looked haggard, like she hadn't had enough sleep. He frowned and he said the first thing on his mind without thinking twice.

"Have you been sleeping well? You don't look—"

"Malfoy," she seemed baffled at his words. "I didn't go through the trouble of getting you here for you to comment on my person."

He raised an eyebrow, and his eyes briefly flickered to his wrist, "Well then?"

She looked down at their joined hands and quickly released his wrist, embarrassed. "Can I ask you a question, Malfoy?"

"You just did," he pointed out and she glared at him, putting her hands on her hips.

"What happened between us?" she seemed exasperated, like she had been hunting for the answers for a long time without success. He felt the urge to embrace her and erase all her worries from her mind with whispers of sweet nothings. He wanted to bury his nose in the sweet fragrance of her hair and feel the warmth of her body against his but he refrained, knowing that such actions would frighten her.

"What happened is we fell in love, Hermione," he said gently, his heart tearing up at the look of unsettlement on her face. Right now, she hated him and failed to understand how she ever fell in love with a person like him. It hurt more than he could have thought possible.

"How? I thought our feelings of hate were mutual."

"Things happen and change is inevitable," were the last words he said to her before he passed her his journal and left.

Hermione stared down at the worn black journal she held in her shaking hands. She closed her eyes and slumped against the wall, her legs buckling under her. He was in love with her and once upon a time, Hermione Granger felt the same way. She saw the way he looked at her, with the eyes of a man in love. He was hurting because of her, because she could not remember and she desperately wished she could. She felt helpless. With trembling fingers, she flipped open the cover of the journal and began to read. She flipped through the book, skipping some entries.

**_September 5th_**

_I stumbled across Granger on the sixth floor yesterday, she was crying and she had somehow managed to injure her foot. I helped her to the hospital wing. I don't know why I did it, I just did. I found out today why she was crying. The news is all over Hogwarts. Apparently, Weasley cheated on her with a girl who had a flowery name, the bastard. I despise cheaters and although I've never harboured any fondness for Granger, I don't think she deserved it._

**_September 8th_**

_I happened to come across Granger today morning by the lake, I wonder why we keep bumping into each other. She was scribbling away on parchment, her composition. She told me that she plays the violin..._

The entry said more but she did not finish reading it, instead frantically leafing through the book. Her eyes darted all over the parchment, skimming over his neat cursive script. They fell in love through their love for music. There were some entries describing her positive traits and from this, she knew that he had harboured feelings early in their relationship. From his words, he had fancied her very much but that eventually grew into love. Her fingers froze when she came to the last few pages of the journal. She carefully read his latest entries, savouring every word.

**_February 20th_**

_It has been a week and Granger has not spoken or looked at me once. I find her behaviour very confusing, I'm not sure why she's avoiding me. The last time we spoke was last Saturday, in the library. The day had started out fairly well and I remember reading a very amusing book titled The Foolish Knight. She seemed to have a fever that day as she was looking very flushed. Before leaving, she kissed me. I'm not sure what's going on in her pretty little head._

**_February 23th_**

_I've taken to talking to Blaise, he's not all that bad._

**_February 25th_**

_We bumped into each other today when I was heading up the astronomy tower and she was going the opposite way. I thought she looked lovely, with her cheeks flushed and her hair windswept. I helped her pick up her books and she thanked me and tried to leave but I stopped her. And then she told me what had been going on in her mind. She needed time, she said, time to think. It was because she had fallen in love with me. I think I will cherish that moment forever. It felt like the ground had been pulled out from under my feet when she said that. Words cannot do justice to how I felt in that moment, my heart had never beat so fast before. I kissed her before she left and told her she could take all the time she needed. But I've never been a very patient person._

**_March 5th_**

_She does occasionally glance at me and when I meet her eyes, she blushes in that very endearing way of hers. At least she isn't completely ignoring me. She loves me, fancy that. Sometimes I stop and wonder, how could she love someone like me? I've never thought someone would ever fall in love with me. I talked to Blaise not too long ago and asked him what was love. His reply made me realise it, I'm in love with Hermione Granger and she doesn't know. I'd like to get up and go tell her now but it's late and she's probably asleep, unless she's up studying. I wouldn't put it past her to do something like that._

**_March 7th_**

_Granger got into a potions accident yesterday, she's lost her memory of the last few months. We fell in love during those last few months. I don't know how to handle this, she doesn't love me anymore. It hurts so much. I never thought it'd feel this way and I want the pain to stop. I don't think I'll ever forget the way she looked at me when she said my name as if I were the lowest scum on earth. I know she'll eventually remember but I don't know if I can handle her hating me when I love her with my whole being. I love her, I do. And I'll wait for her, although all I want to do is to sweep her into my arms and kiss her. I'm drunk at the moment and I have a pounding headache, Blaise went upstairs to bed not too long ago. There's broken glass on the floor._

She ran her fingers over the last entry, tracing the watermarks scattered across the disrupted ink. She realised that the watermarks were actually tears. Draco Malfoy had cried for her. Another watermark appeared next to her finger and she lifted her fingers to her face to find that she was crying.

* * *

**Author's Note**

_"What needs to be done."_

I do not own this sentence, it's actually from a good book I recently read, Finnikin of the Rock by Melina Marchetta. I recommend it if you like reading Fantasy.

Mrs Rowling did not provide much information on the Forgetfulness potion so I fiddled with the original recipe and mixed things around for the 'advanced' version it which only appears in this chapter. Harry made it in his first year and I figured that it was unlikely that seventh years would make a potion fit for eleven year olds hence why I changed things.

Also, Happy belated Birthday to Mrs Rowling and Harry James Potter :)

I did not get twenty reviews for the last chapter (as I predicted) but I did get half of that so thank you all the same. A huge thank you to my beta and also to you, who is reading this. Tell me what you thought of this chapter, you opinion matters to me :)

_- Silver Chessboards_


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